It Depends On What You Pay
by Leslie Rampey
Summary: Lennie and Ed learn about a bizarre service that provides abductions for hire and renders the experiences into art, but there's nothing they can do about it until a dead body turns up. A very strange case indeed. Let me know how you like it!
1. Chapter One

***SORRY ABOUT THE RECENT GLITCH IN CHAP. 2.  IT NOW IS FIXED.***

Summary:  Lennie and Ed learn about a bizarre service that provides abductions for hire and renders the experiences into art, but there's nothing they can do about it until a dead body turns up. A very strange case indeed.

            This story is a semi-sequel to "A Lot of Trouble" (also posted here at FanFiction.net).  It's not absolutely necessary that you read "A Lot of Trouble" first, but it might make some things more clear.  Judith in this story and in the first one is Judith Sandler from the L&O episode "Survivor."  There are five chapters.

            Musical comedy fans may spot that I owe a great big debt and many apologies to Edmond Rostand, Tom Jones, and Harvey Schmidt.

IT DEPENDS ON WHAT YOU PAY

(Although inspired in part by actual incidents, the following story is fictional and does not depict any actual person or event.) 

Chapter One

At his desk at the 27th Precinct, Det. Lennie Briscoe looked at his beeper.  Judith's apartment number?  The only one calling him from there would be Judith, and he knew that she went to work at the gallery that morning as usual – not to mention that she never called him at work anyway.  Wondering if perhaps she was ill, he dialed the familiar number.

            "Judith?  What's going on?  Why are you back at home?"

            "There's something going on at the gallery, Lennie.  I think maybe someone ought to take a look."

            "Someone like who?"

            "Someone like the police."

            Instantly concerned, Lennie asked, "Are you okay?"

            "I'm fine, but I sort of told them that I wasn't feeling well so that I could call you from here.  And actually, I wasn't feeling great after what I saw."

            "What was it?"

            "Well, there's a new exhibit being mounted as we speak.   I had been hearing some buzz about it.  At first I didn't pay any attention because it didn't sound like anything they would need me for, but then I did get curious and went to take a look.  And it's. . .   Well, it's sort of hard to explain."

            "Is it porn?  Should we get someone from Vice to check it out?"

            "No, not porn.  At least I don't think so.  I didn't really see very much of it, but I'll tell you, Lennie, I've been around the art world a long time, and I've never seen anything like this."

            Lennie was getting a little impatient.  "Like what, honey?"

            "As I said, it's really difficult to describe.  And I wouldn't want to prejudice anyone who's going to see it anyway.  I suppose it could be that I'm overreacting."

            _Yeah, that's always possible_, thought Lennie, although she'd been getting better and better about that.  And she really did sound concerned.

            "So, you want me to go take a look?"

            "No, not you.  They know you here, and they'll know I called you.  Is there someone you could maybe send?"

            "I suppose so.  How about Ed?  Will he do?"

            "Has he ever been there with you?"

            "No, not that I recall, but I'll ask him to make sure.  What would he be looking for?"

            "That's the thing, Lennie.  They're not going to let just anyone get a look at an unopened exhibit.  He'd have to do some pretending."

            "I think he could do that.  He's pretty good at talking his way into places.  What would he have to say?"

              "Okay, listen – the exhibit is being put together in the lobby on the second floor.  He'll be able to see that they're arranging a whole bunch of VCRs."

            "VCRs?  And that's art?"  Lennie's definition of art had become more expansive since he'd been dating Judith, but some of it still looked just plain crazy to him.

            "It's the tapes that are going to be played in them that's being called 'art.'"

            _Geez, he thought, if even Judith doesn't buy it, it must be some pretty damn weird stuff.   _

            "So, how can he get to see them?"

            "That's what's going to be tricky.  I figure he's going to have to pretend to be there looking at something else at first.  Then maybe he can make like he's sort of curious about what they're doing.  If he can get to talking to a guy named Tony who's wearing a purple silk shirt, that would be good because Tony's in charge of mounting the exhibit, and he's very high on it.  He also loves when people show an interest in what he's doing."

            "An exhibit of VCRs and a guy named Tony in a purple silk shirt?  Judith, are you really serious?"

            "I'm dead serious," she said firmly.

            She sounded it.

            "If he can get Tony to show him any of those tapes, that would be good, and if he can pry a brochure about the exhibit out of him, that probably would be a very good idea, too.  That way you could know what you're dealing with and maybe who's behind it."

            "Couldn't you get your hands on a brochure, Judith?  You do work there."

            "I thought about that, but they're still in the package from the printer, and Tony hasn't unwrapped it yet.  I probably could get one, but if I showed an unnatural interest in this, someone might remember later.   And I just don't know how to do cloak-and-dagger."

            _True_, he thought_._  Judith was honest to a fault, a god-awful actress, and couldn't play a head-game if she had a set of instructions – in other words, a woman completely outside the realm of Lennie's previous experience.

            "Okay, Judith we'll check it out, and I'll give you a call back.  You going to stay at home or go back to work?"

            "I think I might feel better staying here until you let me know what's going on.  It's just so weird."

            Lennie glanced at the clock on the wall.  He and Ed had been about to go talk to a crew of construction workers, but it was only mid-morning, and they'd be at the job site all day.

            "Okay, I'll see if I can get him over there right now."

            "Oh, and, Lennie – 'experiential art' might be a good term for him to throw around.

            Lennie jotted that down right under "Tony – purple silk."  

            "Got it.  Okay, hon, I'll call you back.  Bye."

            "Bye-bye, Lennie."

            Lennie hung up the phone, and Ed who'd been looking at him curiously asked, "You gonna spend all morning on the phone with your sweetie?  We got somewhere we're supposed to be, remember?"

            "That'll keep.  Meanwhile, Ed, I've volunteered you for a little mission.  How's your art appreciation?"

            "What the hell you talking about, Lennie?"

            Briefly, Lennie explained to his partner what Judith had told him.

            "Let me get this straight. . .  Judith went home from work because she's scared of an exhibit of VCRs being put up by someone named Tony in a purple silk shirt.  And I'm supposed to drop everything and go over there and pretend to be interested?"

            "That's about it."

            "You sure you're paying this woman enough attention, Lennie?  Sounds to me like she's trying to get some from you."

            Lennie sighed.  "Judith wouldn't do that."

            "Yeah, well, I guess we all know you're the one who's the expert on what Judith would and wouldn't do."

            "Don't start, Ed."  Months ago Lennie and Ed had had to agree to disagree about Judith.  Lennie couldn't understand how Ed could so disapprove of a woman whom he had initially liked when he first met her.  "Let's just do this on our way over to the site.  It can't possibly take more than an hour."

            "Okay, okay – whatever you say."

            Just about one hour later, Lennie was sitting in a coffee shop several blocks from the gallery waiting for Ed to return.  He glanced at his watch.  This was taking a little longer than he had expected.  He wished he knew what was going on.

            Just then, Ed entered and sat down across the table from him.

            "So, what'd it look like to you?"

            "Like a homicide waiting to happen."

            Lennie was stunned.  He hadn't known what to expect but hadn't been thinking along those lines.

            "So, Judith was right to be concerned?"

            "Oh, I'll give her that, for sure.  She was dead right.  I just hope nobody gonna be dead real.  Read this."  And he tossed a garishly colored brochure down in front of Lennie.

            He scanned it.  "A Stunning New Dimension in Experiential Art," it promised.  ". . .testing peoples' personal limits to the ultimate. . . "  ". . .elements of surprise and danger. . ."  ". . .abductions. . . "  "Clients become subjects, and subjects become clients."

            Bewildered, he asked, "What the hell is this crap?"

            "It never says so in so many words, but Purple Silk was proud to tell me that this so-called _artiste_ is a professional abductor."

            "A what?"

            "Kidnapping for hire, Lennie."

            "People pay him to kidnap someone?"

            "No, not someone else.  They pay him get themselves kidnapped."

            Lennie just looked at him.  "Are you sure you and Tony maybe weren't smoking a little something, Ed?"

            "I'm damn serious, Lennie.  I saw a few of those tapes.  Must have been what Judith had seen, and it's enough to scare anyone."

            "What was on 'em?"

            "The abductions.  I understand there's more.  Tony says that you can get an 'ordeal' as well as a kidnapping.  But that costs extra."

            "You saw people being kidnapped on tape?"

            "Yup.  Right off the streets.  Sometimes it takes place in other locations, but apparently the artistic value is higher if the snatch is made in public.  'Smashing urban art,' says Tony.  Smashing is right.  It's pretty violent stuff, Lennie.  Someone could get hurt or worse.  Like I said, a homicide waiting to happen.  And I don't even have any idea what might be involved in the so-called 'ordeals.'  Tony was pretty coy about that.  Saving it for opening night"

            Lennie stared at his partner in disbelief.  Thirty years on the force, and he thought he had heard it all.

            Ed caught his look and said, "Yeah, yeah – I know.  Seems like people are getting crazier all the time."

            "So, let's see if I have this right. . .   People hire this 'artist' to kidnap them, he tapes it, and people go to watch the tapes?"

            "And buy them.  Let's not leave that out.  Copies are for sale."

            "Lunatics.  We are living in a city of goddamn lunatics."

            "You got that right, partner."

            "Well, look, if someone gets kidnapped off the street, there's got to be a report of it, right?"

            "My thinking exactly.  I couldn't take notes, of course, but I wrote down what I remembered as soon as I got out of there.  Look here."  Ed opened his notepad and showed Lennie.

            Tape 1 – 9/10

            Tape 2 – 7/7 – 116th  ?

            Tape 3 – 5/29

            "Those were the date stamps on the tape.  Part of the authenticity, according to my pal Tony.  I recognized a couple storefronts in the second tape – in the 116th, I think."

            "Well, at least we've got a place to start tracking this down."

            "And something else, Lennie.  Look here."  Ed pointed to some fine print on the brochure.  "It says that people wanting to inquire about the artist's services can call this number."

            "Good.  Something else to run.  Let's go back to the station and do that.  The guys at the construction site will be there until quitting time.  Maybe we can track something down on this 'experiential' crap real quick."

            Back at the 2-7, Lennie called Judith while Ed called the 116th.

            "Judith, it's me.  We checked it out."

            "And?"

            "And maybe you better keep on 'not feeling well' for the rest of the day."

            "So, I was right?"

            "Ed thinks so, and after what he told me, I do, too."

            "Is there anything that can be done?"

            "We're not even real sure exactly what it is yet.  Trying to track it down right now."

            "Let me know?"

            "Yeah, I'll tell you about it tonight.  Meanwhile, you've got a whole day off.  What are you going to do?"

            "Hmmmm. . . I don't know.  How does a little baking sound to you?"

            "Sounds like you read my mind, doll," Lennie said smiling.

            "That's getting easier and easier.  See you tonight."

            "Let's hope.  Bye."

            Ed hung up at about the same time.  "Nada," he said.

            "Nothing at the 116th ?"

            "Not only that, but no such activity reported anywhere in the city on any of those three days."

            "Could this stuff have been taped somewhere else, Ed?"

            "Not likely according to the vehicle plates I saw on all three tapes.  And I definitely know the location on the second one."

            "Any chance these snatches could have been staged?"

            "We already know that, don't we?"

            "I mean officially."

            "MTU!  I'll get on it."  Ed picked up the phone again.

            "And I'll run this number on the brochure."

             But they both came up dry again.  The Department's Movie/TV Unit had no records of any such tapings, and the number was an unlisted cell phone.

            "So, what now," asked Ed.  "Just wait for opening night?"

            "And if someone gets hurt in the meantime?"

            "There's that."

            Lennie was thinking.  "You know, we could always call the number and inquire about the service.  Set something up for ourselves."

            "Whoa, whoa, Lennie!  You're getting way ahead of where you ought to be.  We do anything that even smells like undercover, and we better bring Van Buren in on it."

            Lennie sighed.  "I suppose you're right.  Okay, let's go fill her in."

            Their lieutenant, however, was conferring with some other detectives, so Lennie and Ed decided to tackle some paperwork while they cooled their heels.

            Idly Lennie wondered if Judith's tip to them would do anything to get her into Ed's good graces.  And then he wondered why he cared.  His partner had been a real bastard about the whole thing.  Not as bad as some of the others, of course, but hardly supportive.  '_Supportive,' _thought Lennie_.  Christ, I sound like a damn talk show.  If I want support, I should get a truss._  

            Still, it bothered him that Ed had met Judith, had eaten with her, chatted amiably with her, and even told Lennie that he thought she was "great."  And then, because of that scene Jack McCoy had made in the restaurant, Lennie had to tell him about Judith's past.

            Ed had just stared at him.  "Have you lost your mind, bro?"

            "You got a problem with it, partner?"

            "Yeah, right – my _partner_ dating an ex-con?  Why should I have a problem with a little thing like that?"

            "And this affects you, how?" Lennie had asked him.

            Actually, Ed did not have a satisfactory answer to that but hedged by pointing out that this wasn't something Lennie would be able to keep under wraps.

            "So, now we're little old ladies worried about the gossip mill?  Is that it?"

            "Ain't gonna make our lives easy."

            Ed was right about that and also right that word would spread.  Lennie was pretty sure that Ed never said anything, but it could have been McCoy or Carmichael or anyone in the crowded restaurant who had overheard.  And it didn't matter.  Lennie had known it only would be a matter of time anyway.  He expected some ribbing and probably even hostility, but he hadn't been totally prepared for the degree of the fallout.

            It wasn't long before Van Buren summoned him and asked him pretty much the same question as Ed had about the whereabouts of his mind.

            "But why, Lennie?  What possessed you?"

            He shrugged.  "These things happen, Lieu."

            "Eight million people in the city of New York, half of them female, and you pick an ex-con?  And not just any ex-con!  Oh, no – it has to be one that you yourself arrested?  Things like that don't just 'happen.'"

            He shrugged again.  "'Who can explain it?  Who can tell you why?'"

            "And now you're quoting musicals at me?!?"

            "Look, Lieu, she's a nice lady – a good person.  And she wasn't the only one responsible for what she did.  She had plenty of help – some of it from the victim himself.  Now she's done her time.  She's off parole.  Is there any reason this can't, for Christ's sake, just stay in the past where it belongs?"

            Van Buren didn't say anything for a moment but regarded him carefully.  

            "You've got it bad, Briscoe – haven't you?" she asked softly.

            "Could be.  Too soon to tell.  I'm happy.  That's just all I know right now."

            She crossed the room and sat on the bench beside him.  She propped her chin on her hand for a bit and seemed to be thinking.  Finally, she said, "Okay, Lennie, I guess I have to admit that ain't none of us pure as the driven snow.  So, I'm behind you on this, but you've got to know you're not going to have an easy time."

            "I know that."

            "I don't know if there's anything I can do to make it better, but I'll do what I can to make sure it's not worse."

            "I appreciate that, Lieu."

            "I hope she's worth it."

            Lennie didn't put it quite that way to himself, but privately he had to admit that at that point in time he didn't exactly have a handle on where the thing with Judith was going.  She was drop-dead gorgeous – great big green eyes, long brown hair, and she looked at least a decade younger than her forty-nine years.  She was smart.  She was talented. She was funny.  She was a lot of things Lennie liked, and he also really admired the honest attitude she had taken about the recent unfortunate chapter of her life – she knew it always was going to be part of the book but was slowly learning that that was no reason not to keep turning the pages.  

            On the other hand, Judith did have a lot of problems.  Many of them she and her shrink seemed to be resolving gradually, but she still had very little confidence in herself.  And it bothered Lennie that despite her evident fondness for him, she didn't seem to be ready for more.  That was a completely new experience for him.  He couldn't recall ever having waited that long for any woman.  Either they were interested or they weren't.  Do it, or move along.  He really didn't know why he was being patient except that he had a hunch that it was going to pay off.  A hunch or a hope?  He really didn't know which but did know that he couldn't have stood not to keep seeing her.

            When everyone found out about her, Lennie tried to downplay it, but she knew that she was the cause of a lot of trouble for him and worried about it constantly.  He reassured her that he could ride it out and that people soon would find something else to talk about.  That turned out to be true in large part, but there were still the occasional rumblings and Ed's continuing disapproval.  Usually, Lennie just ignored it.

            One good thing came out of all the gossip.  Lennie heard from his last two partners at the 2-7, Rey Curtis and Mike Logan.  After having to play the Lost and Found Department game about his mental faculties – God, he was getting sick of that – he actually had pretty good conversations with both of them.

            Rey, of course, remembered Judith's case, as he had been there, too.  When Lennie refreshed him on the details – especially reminding him of that fat rich bastard Richard Peterson who had so condescendingly lectured Rey on high finace – he seemed to come around.  Lennie had to smile when he imagined the huffing and puffing moral outrage mode Rey would have gone into over this the first year Lennie knew him.  Mistakes of his own and his wife's serious case of MS, however, had combined to make Rey a far more tolerant individual than he ever had been.  In fact, once he understood the situation, Rey even suggested that perhaps some time when Deborah was having a good day that Lennie bring Judith around to meet them.  Sadly, that "good day" had not yet materialized.

            Lennie sighed when Mike called.  That meant that word about "Briscoe's slammer sweetie" had spread even to Staten Island.  _Nothing like being famous_, Lennie thought.  Although Mike was incredulous, he was not judgmental.  Typically, he assumed that Lennie was getting some pretty hot sex out of the deal.  If Mike only knew.  Lennie didn't confirm or deny, but just let Mike talk.  It was good to hear from him in any case.

            "Lennie?  Yo?  You trippin,' man?" asked Ed, bringing Lennie back to the present.  "Hague and Keller just came out of Van Buren's office.  Let's go grab her."

            "Let me see if I understand this. . . ," said Van Buren a few minutes later.  "You're working a tip on a case that isn't a case and might not be our case in the first place even if it was a case?"

            "Look, I know how it sounds, Lieu," said Lennie, "but it's something very weird."

            "'Very weird' is not a crime, gentleman."

            "What I saw on those tapes looked like a crime to me, and I think I would know," Ed pointed out.

            "But you can't find any evidence that these incidents even occurred?"

            "Um, not so far, no," Lennie conceded.

            The lieutenant looked at the brochure again.  "I'll admit that this sounds like some very dicey stuff, but it would appear that our hands are tied."

            "So, we just wait for someone to get hurt?  Is that it?" asked Ed.

            "No, what you do is pay a visit to our favorite ADA and lay it out for her.  Let her tell you if any laws are being broken.  Hell, maybe she can put an injunction or restraining order or something on them that will stop this nonsense.  Paying to get kidnapped?  I swear, people nowadays have just too much time on their hands."  

            "Okay, we'll get right over there."

            "And, guys, try not to forget about the case that is a case – you know, that one you're _supposed_ to be working on."

            Downtown, Lennie and Ed found Abbie Carmichael in her office.  Jack McCoy was in there with her going over a file.              

            "Good afternoon, Counselors," said Lennie.

            "What brings you guys down here today?" asked Abbie.

            "Our lieutenant sent us to get a little legal advice.  Tell 'em what you saw at the gallery, Ed."

            Once again Ed described what he had seen that morning and gave them the brochure.  They studied it and looked uneasily at each other.

            "This sure isn't something I like the looks of, Jack."

            "But is it illegal?" Jack asked.  "How'd you two turn this up anyway?"

            Ed looked at Lennie, and let him answer.

            "Judith tipped us to it.  It's the gallery where she works."

            McCoy looked away from him and didn't say anything.

            "Judith?" Abbie asked.  "Your, um. . .   You mean, the woman I met?"

            "Yes," said Lennie, not wanting to get into it.  "Look, Abbie, didn't you tell me once that no one can consent to being assaulted in this state?"

            "Technically, that's true – but try and enforce it," said McCoy.  "We'd have to shut down every public and private BDSM club in the city and then start on the bedrooms.  And then the perverts would be screaming that we should go after football players and boxers.  It would be a nightmare."

            Lennie seemed to recall having pointed out practically the same thing to Carmichael once, but he let that go.

            "But, look, man," Ed protested.  "It's not only the kidnapee, or whatever you want to call it, but someone else could get hurt.  What I saw on those tapes is that these thugs come out of nowhere, grab the target, and he fights back.  It could spill over easy.  A woman on the sidewalk was almost knocked down on one of the tapes."

            "What'd she do?" asked Abbie curiously.

            "Looked to me like she regained her balance and just kept walking – mighty fast."

            "Typical," she said.  "New Yorkers.  I bet she never reported it."

            "Apparently not," said Lennie.  "We couldn't find any record that any of this ever happened."

            "All right," sighed McCoy.  "Abbie, check the books.  If you find out anything relevant, then go have a chat with this Tony.  I think that's all we can do right now."

            "You need anything more from us?" asked Ed.

            "Not at present, but we'll let you know.  Thanks for bringing this to our attention, gentleman."

            As they were leaving, Jack called out, "Oh, and, Lennie, thank Miss Sandler as well."

            _Well_, thought Lennie, _a breakthrough_.  And then he wondered again why he cared.

            The interviews at the construction site went well enough but took much longer than expected by the time the two detectives had tramped all over the lot dodging cranes and cement mixers, the latter over which they had to shout themselves hoarse in order to be heard.

            Lennie had been more tired, but he was plenty tired enough by the time he made it to Judith's at around six-thirty.  He could smell freshly baked bread even before he got his key in the lock, and that helped – a lot.

            Judith was running water at the sink in the kitchen and didn't hear him come in.  He resisted the impulse to go and hug her from behind.  Judith was doing well – very well – but even now that they'd been intimate for several months, Lennie found it prudent to telegraph his moves.  Judith's claustrophobia had much abated, but he didn't want to provoke a panic attack by taking her by surprise.

            He waited in the doorway until she shut off the tap, and then he said, "I'm here, Judith."  

She gave a slight start but didn't appear to be alarmed.  "Hi, you.  Smell anything you like?"

            "You know I do."

            "Want some?  I'll give you just a little slice now.  Don't want to spoil your dinner."

            "Yeah – like that would ever happen.  Especially with your cooking."

            Judith blushed as she usually did when she heard a compliment, as if she could never quite believe it was meant for her.

            "Want some coffee, too?  Go ahead out and sit down.  I'll bring it to you.  You look tired."

            He didn't argue, and in a few minutes she brought him coffee and a slice of bread with a generous portion of melting butter.

            "French?" he asked.  "You said that's a lot more work."

            "Well, it's not like I had anything much else to do today.  So, what'd you find out about the exhibit?"

            Briefly he told her and concluded, "In other words, not much."

            "You mean that the kind of stuff I saw on those tapes can go on right on the street, and no one can do anything about it?"

            "Not unless Abbie Carmichael comes up with some legal hocus-pocus or until a crime is reported.  And, you – you go back to work, but please stay as far away as possible from that exhibit and anyone connected with it.  Who knows but what the abductor stars of those little dramas might show up, and Ed said they looked like some pretty rough customers."

            "They sure did.  That's why I got worried.  

            "Just out of curiosity, Judith, what is it with this 'experiential' crap anyway?  How does it get off calling itself 'art?'"

            "There is legitimate experiential art, Lennie.  Take for example at kids' exhibits in museums – how they set up things for them to touch or play with.  And that play we went to in the Village, remember, where the audience became guests at a wedding.  That's experiential drama."

            Lennie remembered.  He had protested at the time that it sounded "nutty," but he wound up having a pretty good time and even danced at the "reception."

"But no one got hurt there.  It didn't even look like anyone was going to get hurt.  Shouldn't a line be drawn there?"

            "Well, I certainly would draw one, but apparently my employers have another take on it.  So – Ed?  I assume he was thrilled to go chasing after something I called about?"

            "Not at first, but, like I told you, he was as concerned as you were after his little visit to the gallery."

            "Well."

            "Well, Ed will come around."

            "So you've been saying.  For months.  Look, Lennie, I don't care for me – I barely know the guy, but this has to be uncomfortable for you."

            "You'd be surprised how often it doesn't come up."

            "Because you both just keep not talking about it."

            "Judith, it's just not something for you to worry about."

            "So you. . . "  And Lennie's beeper sounded.  She slumped in her chair and mumbled, "Great, just great."

            Lennie looked at the readout.  "No, it's okay.  It's Julia."

            She brightened.  "Great!  Say 'hi,' and let me know how Jake's doing.  I'm going to look in on dinner."

            She went to the kitchen, and he dialed his daughter's number in Glens Falls.  It was so good to be calling her at home again instead of at the hospital.  There's one number Lennie would like to forget, but he doubted he ever would.

            "Hey, Julia!  It's Dad.  How's Jake doing?"

            "He's great, Dad.  He has his setbacks, and he gets discouraged, but he seems to perk right back up.  He's one determined little kid."

            "Is he still talking about taking a trip down here?"

            "Don't you know it!  I think it's one of the things that keeps him going."

            "Well, listen, you tell him that Judith and I will be driving up there one weekend real soon."

            Julia was silent for a moment.  Just as Lennie was beginning to wonder if the connection had gone dead, she said, "Dad, you're not calling from your place or from work.  Are you at Judith's?"

            "Yeah.  And, sweetheart, there's something you ought to know.  I'm probably going to be moving in here."

            "You're going to live with her?"

            "We're talking about it."

            "Is she there right now?"

            "She's making dinner.  Want to talk to her?"

            "No.  No, I don't.  But I do want to talk to you."

            "Julia, is something wrong?"

            "Dad, we've been hearing some stuff – crazy stuff.  And I have to ask you. . .  Um, how did you and Judith meet?  You never did say."

            _Oh, God, _thought Lennie_.  Not right now._

            "Well, the subject never came up, did it?"

            "The subject is up now.  How'd you two meet?"

            Lennie glanced toward the kitchen.  He sure didn't want Judith hearing this.  He sighed and said, "Probably whatever you heard is essentially correct."

            "That she's a murderer you arrested?  You mean this is true?"

            _Damn it to hell.  If people were going to gossip, couldn't they at least get the facts straight?_

            "The second part is true, but not the first."

            "You arrested her, but she didn't murder someone?"

            "Right."

            "Then what'd she do?"

            "Julia, honey, this isn't a good time."

            "Look, I probably can go look this up in the papers if I have to, but I really don't have time, and I'd rather hear it from you anyway.  Which, by the way, I should have before now.  Were you ever going to tell me?"

            "I hadn't thought about it."

            "So, again, if she didn't murder someone, what did she do?"

            Lennie moved as far away from the kitchen as he could get.  "Okay, okay.  She caused a man's death."

            "And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

            "The law makes a distinction.  Look, what's the problem anyhow?  If you heard that much, you must have heard that she's paid for it.  Let that be the end of the story."

            "So, my dad's going to move in with a woman who killed someone, and I'm not supposed to worry about it?"

            "Caused. . . "

            "Yeah, yeah – okay, 'caused his death.'  Fine.  How do you know she's not going to 'cause' someone else's death?  Like maybe yours?"

            "That's not going to happen.  Go ahead and look up the case, and you'll see why.  Besides, aren't you forgetting something?  You've met her.  You've spent time with her.  You told me you liked her.  And that's not to mention what she did for us – for Jake."

            "I know all that's true, Dad.  That's why I'm having such a hard time with this.  When I heard, I just couldn't reconcile the whole thing.

            "How'd you hear anyway?"

            "A couple of our local cops were transporting a pris--. . . "

            "Never mind," he said wearily.  "I get the picture."  And he did.  Couple of Glens Falls guys on the job come into the city, get to chatting with a couple of their counterparts, mention the crazy New York cop who was up in their neck of the woods a few months back. . .  It didn't take a whole lot of imagination.  He supposed he should be surprised that it hadn't happened earlier.

            "So, how you want to leave this, kid?"

            "I don't know, Dad.  I don't know what to think."

            "Think about this – with Judith, what you see is what you get.  What did you see?"

            "I saw a lovely woman who obviously was being very good for you."

            "Well, then, leave it there.  Can you do that?"

            "I don't know, Dad.  It was just such a shock to hear it.  Maybe if I'd heard it from you first. . . "

            "That was my fault, but you have to admit, there's been a lot going on for you.  This just didn't seem that important."

            "Look, Dad, I've been. . .  I've been stressed out with Jake and all."

            "Sure.  Sure you have."

            "Maybe I am overreacting.  I don't know.  I'm going to have to think about this some more."

            "You think about it, and I'll call you in a couple of days, okay?  We can talk more then if you want to."

            "Yeah, yeah – sure.  That'll be good."

            "And, Julia, one thing. . .  Look, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't. . . "

            "Tell Mom?  Ha.  Don't worry – _that_ stressed, I'm not."

            "Julia, you just concentrate on Jake right now.  Give my love to him and Bill, okay?"

            "Sure.  I love you, Dad."

            "Love you, too, kiddo.  We'll talk soon.

            "Bye, Dad."

            When he hung up, he saw that Judith had begun to set the table.  She didn't look at him but said, "I wasn't eavesdropping, Lennie."

            "But you heard."

            "You raised your voice there a couple times.  It wasn't hard to figure out.  She knows about me now."

            "Yeah."  He could see that tears weren't far from her eyes.

            "I'm really sorry about that.  I like her, you know.  I was really hoping she could like me."

            "She did.  I mean, she does – I'm sure.  She's just surprised."

            "Oh?  Like Ed was 'surprised?'"  

            "I'm gonna give Julia a little more credit than that.  She spent quite a bit of time with you – under very trying circumstances.  That's going to count for a lot."

            "And what if it doesn't?"

            "She's an adult.  It's her problem."

            "I don't want you to be cut off from your family on account of me, Lennie."

            "No one's cutting anyone off, for God's sake.  Judith, you're worrying too much again.  Julia will sort this out, and everything will be fine."

            "I hope you're right."

            Lennie hoped he was right, too.  He sure didn't want the two most important women in his life at odds.  But Julia had a good head on her shoulders, and she was a sweet girl.  He'd put money on her coming around in a short time.

            "Lennie, maybe we should put off this moving in together thing."

            "We'll talk about it after dinner, okay?"

            They did, and he convinced her to leave things pretty much where they were before – that they would be thinking more seriously about it as the time came for him to decide about renewing his lease.

                                                                                                Go to Chapter Two --       


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

The next morning at work, Lennie received a call from Abbie Carmichael.

"Lennie," I can't find anything that seems to apply – at least not to anything we know about so far."

"So, we do have to wait until someone gets hurt?"

"Or at least until someone files charges.Unless. . ."

"Unless what, Abbie?"

"Your friend Miss Sandler works there, right?Is there any way she could find out more?Maybe get a look at some additional tapes?Ed said that that Tony person implied that what he showed him was just the tip of the iceberg."

"No," Lennie said firmly."She's no undercover cop, and I don't want her anywhere around anyone having to do with anything like what she and Ed saw."

"Well, I guess I can't blame you, but do you suppose she could at least get some information on the opening so we can have someone there?"

"She might be able to do manage that.I'll call her."

He did, and Judith promised to let him know something that evening.Actually, she did better than that.She handed him an envelope with four tickets to the opening of "Urban Experience."

"Lennie, this is sort of unusual, but I found out that this opening is by invitation only."

"They never do that?"

"Occasionally, but it's uncommon.I think it means that they're expecting this to be quite a splash and want to create suspense and attract the critics.And raise prices, of course."

He examined the tickets."So, what'd you have to do to get these?"

"Just asked for them.As an employee, I'm entitled to go and bring three guests."

"You're not going anywhere near that crap," he told her.

"Then no one's going.I can bring three guests, but I can't give away all four tickets."

Lennie thought about that."So, you, me, and who else?"

"Not Ed," she said quickly."I don't think it would be a good idea for Tony's curious patron to show up in the company of a cop or anyone known to keep company with a cop."

"True," he agreed."Well, Abbie Carmichael asked about the opening in the first place.Maybe McCoy would like to tag along. . . ."

"He's hardly low-profile.Someone would be sure to recognize him."

"Also true.Well, I'll leave it up to Abbie to choose her escort."

But Lennie did have an idea about who he was going to suggest to her.Abbie agreed with him, and the next day Lennie found himself dialing Rey Curtis.First, he inquired if Rey would be able to get away from home that night.

"Sure, if it's important, I can get someone from the church to stay with Deborah and the kids for a few hours."

"Well, it's something I'd ordinarily check out with Ed, be he's sort of disqualified himself, so I'd like you to be along."

After Lennie explained about the abduction "artist," Rey was silent for a moment and then asked quietly, "What's the matter with people, Lennie?"

"I've given up trying to figure that one out.So, you up for it?"

"Sure.Just you and me on the job again – why not?"

"Well, um, not just us, Rey.Actually, we've got a couple of dates."

"Dates?"

"Yeah, I'll be with Judith, our hostess for the evening.And your date is a real knockout, Rey – a tall Texas lady with legs that don't quit, long dark hair. . . . "

"That sounds like Abbie Carmichael!"

"Bingo!Think you can stand it?" teased Lennie.

"Oh, I suppose I'll bear up somehow.Police work always requires sacrifice, doesn't it?"

"That's the attitude, Rey!"

Lennie thought it might be most efficient for them all to meet at Judith's apartment about forty-five minutes before the opening because it was closest to the gallery and it would give them a chance to get on the same page about what they might be looking for.Unfortunately, things got really busy, and it slipped his mind to tell Judith about that plan until about fifteen minutes before Rey and Abbie would be arriving.And he could have kicked himself.

She was fixing her hair in front of the mirror in the bedroom.Lennie took her hand and asked her if she would come sit down on the bed and talk to him for a moment.

"Judith, honey, this was incredibly stupid of me, I know, but right now there's just not time to do anything about it."

"What are you talking about?"

"I just, um, forgot to tell you that I fixed it up with Abbie and Rey to meet us here before we go."

"Well, that's okay.I'm almost ready, and this way we can all go together instead of trying to find each other somewhere outside on the street.I can put out some drinks and crackers if you. . .What is it?What's the matter?"

Lennie stared at her.Is it possible she really was not concerned at all that Rey and an ADA were about to show up on her doorstep?

"You do understand who's going to be here in just a few minutes?"

"Sure.Your former partner and. . . "Oh."

"Yeah.You going to be able to deal with that?I could meet them outside, head them off if you want."

"Oh, goodness, let me think a minute. . . "She nervously ran her hands through her hair and took a couple deep breaths."You know, that really didn't occur to me. . . "

Lennie waited for her to sort it through and remembered the flashback to her arrest he had provoked the first time he came to her apartment.And Rey had been the other arresting officer.And an ADA had been there then as well.

"Well," said Judith slowly. "She – Miss Carmichael – she's not the same one. . . "

"Still. . . "

"No, that'll be okay.I shouldn't have a problem."

"And what about Rey?"

"Yes, well, that's a little harder."

"He's a good guy, Judith.I told you that he even said I should bring you over to meet his wife sometime."

"Yes.Yes, you did.Look, Lennie, I think. . .I think I can do this.It's not going to be a complete surprise, so I should be okay.Just let me finish here."

"You sure?"

She reassured him, and they were both in the living room when the doorbell rang.Lennie thought maybe it would be easier on her if she didn't see Rey in the doorway, so he offered to answer.

"No, I can't be afraid of answering the door in my own home."

"We'll both go."

And when she answered the door, Lennie's arm was around her waist.

"Miss Carmichael, how nice to see you again.Won't you please come in?And. . .And Detective Curtis.Lennie, please get their coats."

The four of them went into the living room.Lennie put his hand on Abbie's arm to stay her a moment and let Judith and Rey proceed a little ahead of them.

"Um, Miss Sandler," began Rey, "This is, uh, a little awkward, I know, but I'm really glad we can meet again under better circumstances.And my name is Rey."

Judith was drained of color, and Lennie could tell she was shaking a little, but she looked like she was going to be able to manage it.

"Rey, thank you for saying that.Lennie speaks of you often.You're very welcome here."

Abbie was watching the little scene curiously but with no apparent surprise.Lennie wondered how much Jack had told her or if perhaps she had looked up Judith's case herself.

"Well, gang," Lennie said as they all sat down, "It'd be nice if this was a social gathering, but it is a working night.Let's figure out what we want to do here."

First, they had Judith tell them anything more she could about the mounting of the show.Abbie described what they might look out for in the "art," and she suggested that they might want to alert the uniforms in the area for a possible call from them.

Judith seemed to be looking more uneasy by the moment.Lennie thought she had handled the Rey thing really well, but who ever could tell with her?She tended to keep inside a lot of what really upset her.

He touched her shoulder."Honey?You okay?"

She looked around at the three of them."I have to tell you all that I'm not looking forward to this.That's not stuff I really want to see again."

"It sounded pretty ugly," said Abbie.

"It was, and I'm sure that what Tony was allowing to be previewed were some of the tamer items.And. . .And something else. . . "Her voice trailed off, and she looked embarrassed.

"Go ahead, Judith," Rey said kindly."You're our resident expert, after all."

"I know this sounds really ironic coming from me, but violence just makes me physically ill.And, even worse that that, I'm so really, really angry that this shit is being palmed off as 'art.'It just confirms so many negative stereotypes that keep people from appreciating what art can bring to their lives.Art isn't all sweetness and light – I know that.Of course, there had to be room for the darker side of human experience, but, as Lennie has said, you've got to draw a line somewhere."

Lennie, Rey, and Abbie looked at her in some surprise.She seemed embarrassed again by the attention and said, "I'm sorry.I didn't mean to rant.Lennie can tell you that I don't often get on a soapbox."

Lennie chuckled at that."It's true, but I'm here to tell you that she sure can when the stakes are high enough."

Judith blushed deeply, and Lennie put his arm around her.

"Look, Miss Sandler – Judith," said Abbie, "We appreciate that this is really difficult for you, but it seems that you are, literally, our ticket to finding out what's going on here."

Lennie was beginning to have doubts about this whole little outing.

"Judith, we don't have time to take you over for a crash course at Actors Studio.You going to be able to pull this off?"

She shrugged."I figure I'll just point you toward Tony.Ask him a couple questions about himself or what he's doing, and he doesn't shut up."

"Too bad we didn't have more like him in the IR, eh, Lennie?" cracked Rey.

"He'll just keep talking, and he probably wouldn't even notice if you were gagging.Some of the others who work with him are the same way to a degree.So, this can't be hard.But I think I'll leave the actual 'art appreciation' to you all."

Agreeing that was their plan, they set off for the gallery.

Lennie hated everything from the moment they walked in.About three-dozen videos were playing at once, bright lights were flashing, and a low but insistent music was pounding in the background.He gave thanks that he wasn't prone to seizures.Judith pointed out to him the "still" art – the blown-up video frames and renditions of them in various media.Everywhere Lennie looked, it was stomach-churning – like his worst day ever on the job infinitely multiplied.Slamming, punching, people bound and gagged, screaming, filthy mattresses – everywhere he turned.Occasional BDSM trappings popped up here and there, but that didn't seem to be the prevailing theme.He stuck close to Judith, unwilling to leave her alone in that atmosphere.

"Judith!" exclaimed a man with spiked red, white, and blue hair."Darling!How kind of you to show!"He took her by the shoulders and air-kissed her cheeks."Didn't think this was quite your thing," he said teasingly."And how marvelous that you've brought your NYPD friend along."

He was wearing bright yellow silk rather than purple, but Lennie assumed this could only be Tony.Judith confirmed that with a slight nod.

Without waiting for an introduction, Tony sidled up to Lennie."Well, Officer, you know, I never thought of it, but it now occurs to me that cop persons such as yourself would be huge, huge fans of this work.It must soooo capture the essence of what you do."

Lennie forced a big smile for the slimy bastard and said, "You know, I was just thinking something along those very lines myself.I don't suppose you'd have time to tell me a little more about what I'm seeing here, would you?"

"Oh, Officer, I'd be delighted," burbled Tony."Positively delighted!Will you excuse us, Judith, while I show your friend around?"

And he linked his arm through Lennie's.Judith nodded and even smiled a little at Lennie's evident discomfort, to which Tony of course was oblivious.

"I'll keep an eye on you," Lennie whispered as he allowed himself to be dragged off.

As Tony gave him the grand tour – apparently with no notion whatsoever that Lennie, or anyone in the world for that matter, would find the exhibit in the least strange, let alone possibly illegal – Lennie did keep an eye on Judith and also observed that Rey and Abbie were taking a tour of their own and that Abbie was making notes in the exhibit catalog.She, however, never appeared to give them any indication that she spotted anything they needed to act on._Too bad, _thought Lennie_.I'd love to arrest Tony._

"Gosh, Tony," said Lennie, not making much of an effort even to sound sincere since it didn't seem to matter."This is fab stuff, man.When do I get to meet the artist?"

"Ah, Officer," said Tony as he affected a tragic mien, "Genius, I'm afraid, prefers to remain elusive."

"You mean a guy does great work like this, and he doesn't even show up at his own show?"

"I know, I know," lamented Tony."So few of us would have the discipline to hide our light under the proverbial bushel.Personally, I'd be climbing just all over the limelight, but this artist feels that revealing himself would compromise his effectiveness."

"His effectiveness as an artist?"

No, silly.As a. . . "And Tony stood on his toes to stage whisper into Lennie's ear, "A professional abductor."

"Oh?You mean so that he doesn't compromise the source of his, um, raw material?"

Tony was beside himself."That's it!That's it exactly!You know, I must confess to you that never did I suspect one of New York's Finest would be so in tune with the _avant-garde_.Our Judith must be a very good influence on you.Now, tell me, that other charming gentleman the two of you brought along. . .Just exactly how attached might he be to the young lady with him?"

Lennie finally managed to disengage himself from Tony and returned to Judith and waited with her near the door for Rey and Abbie.Almost wordlessly, they trooped back to Judith's apartment.

Abbie sat on the couch and pulled her long hair back and twisted it in her hands."Well, folks, that was one of the most disgusting displays I've ever seen.I don't suppose you'd be selling tickets to your shower, would you, Judith?"

Judith waved her hand."It's on the house, but you might have to wait in line."

"It was pretty weird," observed Rey."Did you notice how about half the crowd disappeared almost immediately?And they looked pretty appalled.Then the other half stays and ooohs and ahhhs.I guess it's one of those things – either you love it or hate it.Personally, I'd rather have walked out with the first wave."

"So, people, what'd we see?" asked Lennie."Is it, as McCoy asked, illegal?"

"Not without victims and perpetrators," answered Abbie.

"That's all we saw all night, wasn't it?" asked Rey.

"Yeah, but who the hell are they?" she responded.

"What were you doing with that catalog?" Lennie asked her.

"Very judiciously spending the limited mad money Jack budgeted me for this project."

"You mean you bought some of that crap?" he asked."So glad my tax dollars are supporting the arts."

"I tried to choose some of the tapes and stills that looked like we might have the best chance of IDing the participants.So often they were blurred or hooded, but I noticed that several of the abductees didn't seem shy about appearing on camera.Maybe we can track them down somehow."

"So, we're essentially back at Square One?" asked Lennie.

"Until someone files a complaint or we develop independent evidence that a crime has been committed, yes.And you guys know as well as I do that without something to sink their teeth in, neither of our bosses is going to be thrilled about any of us spending more time on this."

"Well," said Rey."Don't think this hasn't been fun. . . "

". . .because it hasn't," chimed in Lennie glumly.

". . .but I've got to get home.Give me a call if you break anything.Abbie, Lennie, it's been great seeing you guys.Judith, you want to walk me out, please?"

"Oh, yes," she said a little nervously."Sure."And she went with him down the hall to the foyer.

Left alone for a minute, Lennie looked at Abbie and said, "Go ahead, Counselor – get it out of your system."

"You and Judith?Honestly?It's about the weirdest thing I've ever heard, but it seems to be working for you both.More power to you."

He looked at her in some surprise, but just then Judith returned.

"Abbie, may I get you something?"

"No, Judith, thank you.I have to be going, but I really want to thank you for helping us do this tonight." 

"I don't know what I've really done."

"Maybe a lot.Who knows?We'll just have to see.Lennie, after the pieces I ordered are delivered, I'll let you know if there's anything for you guys to do."

After Abbie left, Judith asked Lennie, "So, that's it?"

"Afraid so, doll," he sighed."Sometimes that's just how it is.Stuff is a dead-end, or at least you have to move it to the back burner.In a way, probably the best outcome would be that we never hear about it again.At least that might mean that no one's gotten hurt."

"I suppose you're right.I just still hate it."

They were quiet for a moment, and then Lennie asked, "So, what'd Rey want to get you alone about?"

"He was really sweet.He said he hoped I had no hard feelings and mainly told me what a great guy you are."

"See?I told you not to worry about this stuff.The people who really count can get past it."

"Speaking of which," she said suddenly, "You didn't get here until it was almost time for us to go to the exhibit, so I never had a chance to tell you, but Julia called me at the gallery this afternoon."

"She did?How'd she know where to find you?"

"I asked her the same thing, and she pretty proudly pointed to me that she is the daughter of a detective after all."

Lennie smiled briefly."I hope she didn't give you a hard time."

"No, really she didn't.I think she's still struggling with the idea, though.It seems like she was trying to reassure herself or something."

"Of what?"

"Maybe that I'm still the same person she met in Glens Falls – that I haven't turned into something else all of a sudden just because she knows about me now."

"That's what I asked her to think about when she first called.I guess she did."

"Well, I've got the definite feeling that I'm on probation, but that's okay.I think she doesn't hate me anyway."

"Of course she doesn't hate you.No one hates you.You've got to get over that."

"Easier said than done, Lennie."

"Well, you know what will help – at least with this Julia thing?We've been talking about taking a ride up there one weekend.I'd really like to see how the kid is doing."

"I know you need to see Jake, but now that they know about me, maybe it might be a better idea if I didn't go along."

"Honey, you know that's nonsense."

"I don't know that.Sometimes I don't know anything.It can seem like. . . "And her voice trailed off.

"Go ahead.What were you going to say?"

"It seems like I'm going along having a normal life, and then stuff happens, and it reminds me of what I did and what I'll always be."

"Well, no one has to be just one thing forever.You can go on and become other things.You already have been doing that."

"You think so?"

"I know so, and I don't want you thinking anything else," he said firmly."You have a perfect right to be in Glens Falls with me, and Julia will be fine with it."

"I hope you're right."

"I am – you'll see.And, to change the subject, I'll tell you one thing Abbie was very right about – a shower after that show!"

Next morning, Lennie told Ed about their night out at the exhibit.

"Man, it doesn't sound like we're much further along than when we first heard about this."

"No, we're not," Lennie said resignedly."Well, it's like I told Judith – sometimes stuff just doesn't pan out."

"Still, I'm going to go back there on my own and take a look around now that all the stuff is out in the open.Maybe something will come to me."

"Sure, knock yourself out."

"I have a feeling about it.There's something very, very wrong."

"Well, that's something you and Judith have in common."

Ed was silent for a minute, and it seemed to Lennie that he wanted to say something but didn't quite know what or how."Something on your mind, partner?"

"Yeah.Judith."

Lennie sighed._What now?_How many more ways was Ed going to find to get on his case about this?"Look, Ed, I just don't wanna. . . "

"No, man – relax.I'm trying to be nice here.It just don't come easy for me, you know?"

"Nice?You're trying to be nice about Judith?Yeah, right."

"No, really.Look, Lennie. . .Ahhhh, hell."

Lennie waited.

"I've been a shit – okay?I know I have.It's just that at first I was so surprised, and I thought it was a real bad idea – and I still don't think it's a real good one – but. . .Look, man, I'm sorry – okay?"

Lennie was stunned.He'd been telling Judith that Ed would come around, but as time passed, he really didn't any longer believe it himself.

"So, why now?"

"Well, after you first told me and we had that argument, we just didn't talk about it much except when I would make little digs at you, and. . .Well, I guess that just got to be a force of habit, and I really didn't think that much more about her until this abduction stuff came up.I mean, I guess if she had enough sense to alert us to it. . .And, well, you seem like a pretty happy guy nowadays, Lennie.So, I guess what I am saying is that I've been wrong to give you such a hard time about this."

Lennie didn't know what to say.Again, he couldn't quite figure out why he cared one way or the other, but it seemed now that some weight had been lifted."So, you're all of a sudden okay with her?"

Ed sighed."Like I said, I still don't think it was the smartest thing you've ever done, but that's a ship that's sailed.If Judith is what you want, I promise you'll never hear any more crap from me about it – or from anyone else, if I can help it."

"Ed, I don't know what to. . . "

"Well, let's just do us both a favor and skip any touching scene that might be about to occur here.I've said what I've had to say."

"Gotcha, partner."

Lennie's beeper went off."It's Judith," he said as he looked at the readout."She was going to let me know how the mood around the gallery is this morning."

"Tell her I said, 'hi.'"

"Are you sure?" Lennie asked as he was dialing.

"Yeah, I'm sure I'm sure.I meant what I said."

When Judith came on the line, she said, "I can't talk a lot right now, you know."

"Got time for coffee?"

"I'll make it.Usual place?"

"No.That's a little close."He named the shop where he and Ed met after Ed had paid the initial visit to the gallery.She agreed to meet him there, and when he hung up, Lennie said to Ed, "You want to say 'hi' to Judith, why don't you do it in person?"

About fifteen minutes later they joined her at a table in the shop.Judith drew in a sharp breath when she saw Ed.As he sat down, she turned to Lennie and widened her eyes.He nodded slightly with what he hoped was encouragement.

"Judith," said Ed."How ya been keeping yourself?"

"It's. . .It's certainly been a while since we met."

"And that's been my fault.I was just telling Lennie that I'm going to try to do better about that."

"O-okay," she said uncertainly, as if she still weren't quite certain what to make of the situation.

Lennie was hoping that Judith got the picture.He tried to move along.

"So, how are things after the big show last night?"

"The reviews mostly have been pretty good, believe it or not."

"So, critics have crap for brains.What else is new?" sighed Lennie.

"A couple of them did say something to the effect that 'the Emperor has no clothes on,' but they pretty much all got in step, even if they expressed some puzzlement."

"Didn't someone once say something about 'hanging to the rear on every issue?'" asked Ed.

"Yes, that's about right," agreed Judith."And Tony and company are completely ecstatic.You'd think he himself were the artist."

"Do you think that he does have anything to do with it?" asked Lennie.

"Tony?"

"Well, do curators usually get that enthused about the exhibits they mount?"

"Sometimes, yes.But now that you mention it, Tony has been really wired – even for Tony."

Lennie thought for a moment."Judith, is there any financial incentive here for Tony?"

"Oh, no – absolutely not.The gallery gets a commission on pieces sold, of course, but designers and curators – no way.That's not kosher at all."

"Well, we pretty much started out here with 'not kosher at all,' didn't we?" pointed out Ed.

"True, very true," mused Lennie.

"So," began Judith, "Do you want me to. . . ?

"No," Lennie said."I don't want _you_ to do anything at all.If you happen to hear anything interesting, that's fine.But do _not_ go playing Nancy Drew."

"You mean that reading all those forty or fifty volumes of that series back in fifth grade was all for naught?" asked Judith in mock distress.

"Trust me, doll, you just don't have it in you.Just stay away from that exhibit and from Tony."

"That's probably good advice, Judith," Ed told her.

"Somehow, Ed," she said, "I don't think it was _advice_."

"Judith," said Lennie, "I'm not trying to tell you what to do."

"Mmmm-mmm," she said smiling."Who?You?"

Lennie sighed.Judith often teased him about what she called his "old-fashioned notions."Fortunately, they usually seemed to amuse rather than annoy her.

Ed grinned."Old Spice time-warpin' ya back to the '50s, Judith?"

"It's a nice enough place to visit, but. . . "And they both laughed.

"Oh, that's just great," grumbled Lennie."You finally drop your attitude, Ed, just so the two of you could gang up on me?"

"Hadn't thought of that, but I'm seein' the possibilities."

"Ya know, aren't we all supposed to be working today?"

"You're right," said Judith."I really need to go.I left something that I don't want to dry completely before I get back to it."

"Thanks for the update, honey."

"What I told you means that the exhibit likely will be held over.But, as you said last night, perhaps the best thing will be that nothing ever comes of it."

"Let's hope that'll be the case," agreed Ed.

Ed did go tour the exhibit on his own, and they went to Abbie's office to look closely at the pieces she had purchased.They saw the faces of some of the "victims" – mostly white males – but had no way to put names to them.Lennie was still toying with the idea of calling the number on the brochure and setting up a sting, but Van Buren completely nixed the idea, calling it "borrowing trouble.""I'm a whole lot more interested in you guys' closing cases, Briscoe – not creating them," she said.

And a couple weeks later Lennie and Judith did spend a weekend in Glens Falls.She was still reluctant to go, and he had quite a time persuading her.He just didn't think it was something he could allow her to give in to.If she didn't go now, he reasoned, it would become a whole avoidance thing, and she would always be too afraid to see Julia.Better to deal with it straightforwardly was his thinking.

"But what if we get up there, Lennie, and she doesn't want to see me?Doesn't want me around Jake?"

"She's not like that.Look, Gloria and I might have gotten a lot of things wrong, but, I promise you, we raised her better than to behave that way.Besides, she didn't say anything to you on the phone about not wanting to see you, did she?"

"No, but seeing each other again was not something we got into."

"Well, we'll settle this right now."And he reached for the phone.

"Lennie, what are you going to do?"

"Let her know that we're driving up this weekend."

"Oh, I don't want to hear this."And she started to get up, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back down beside him.

"Oh, no you don't – stay put.This isn't going to be anything you can't hear."

"Oh, God."

"Don't get in a panic," he told her as he punched the number."You'll see.There's nothing to panic about."

His son-in-law Bill answered."Bill, it's Lennie.How's everyone doing?"

"Hi, Lennie.We're okay – really okay.It's one step at a time with Jake, you know, but considering everything, we really don't have much we can complain about."

"That's a good attitude, Bill.Keep it up.Say, is Julia around?"

"Sure.Just a sec."

"Hi, Dad," said Julia when she came on the line."What's up?"

"Just wanted to let you know that we've cleared the decks and we'll leave to drive up there at noon on Friday."

Julia was silent for a minute, and Lennie could tell that she had caught the "we.""You're telling me, not asking me – right?" she finally said.

"Well, I'm assuming that with Jake's therapy and all that you're going to be home."

"Of course, we're going to be home.That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, sweetheart?" he inquired pleasantly.

"Dad, I might need a little more time."

"That's not going to change anything, Julia.Trust me – it's better this way."

"And you know that – how?"

"I know you – that's how."

Julia sighed."Okay.Sure.Whatever.Anyway, Jake's going to be so excited."

"And so are we.So, we'll see you in time for dinner on Friday?"

"Sure.See you then.Drive carefully."

"We will.Love ya, baby.Bye-bye."

"Love you, too, Dad."

"So," said Judith as Lennie hung up, "Did I hear a little fatherly arm twisting there?"

"Of course not."

"What would you call it?"

"I'd call it calling to let her know when we're coming."

"She won't appreciate it if you force me on her."

_Why do women always have to complicate things, _he asked himself?"There's no forcing here.It's just that what is, is."

"Maybe you want to talk to Bill Clinton about that."

"Maybe I want to talk to Bill Clinton about a lot of things, but that's not one of them.Look, just don't worry, okay?Everything's going to be fine."

"Well, you were right about Ed, so maybe you'll be right about Julia," she said hopefully.

Lennie didn't tell her that he had given up on Ed before he finally did come around."Just keep a positive attitude."

On the drive north, Lennie could tell that was a struggle for her and he tried to distract her as well as he could with comments on the scenery and whatever lighter anecdotes he could come up with from the job that past week.Once they were in the motel at Glens Falls, she tried to get out of going to dinner at Julia's house.

"How do you know the invitation even includes me?"

"Of course it includes you.Please don't be like that, Judith.You only make difficulties for yourself that way, you know."

"I know you're probably right, but this just brings everything rushing right back – Stephen Campbell and. . . "

"Don't go there.Absolutely do not go there.You've grown beyond that, remember?"

"Sometimes I think so, but. . . "

"There are no buts.Just keep remembering that."

Lennie could tell she was trying as Julia answered the door, but he also could feel she was trembling.He was sure he was not imagining, however, that his daughter was being distinctly cool towards Judith.He really had hoped for better, but as he took his coat, Bill whispered to Lennie, "Julia is going to make this work.I guarantee.Just be a little patient with her."That helped.

And what really helped ultimately was Jake.Julia couldn't stay distant from a woman whose eyes filled with tears when she saw how much better her son looked.And, gosh, the kid did look better.Most of the cuts and abrasions had healed, and he even was spending part of the day on a walker.

"And you know what, Grandpa?" Jake bragged."I can even take a few steps on my own, but Mom won't let me."

"Not without your therapist around, I won't," Julia said firmly."I swear, the kid's gonna give me a heart attack before I'm thirty-five!"

They all laughed, and much of the tension diminished.Adult differences just didn't seem to matter much when they all remembered what Jake had been through and gave thanks for how far he had come.Cordiality reigned, and Judith visibly relaxed.

Lennie thought the weekend went remarkably well.Except for occasional moments in the kitchen, the two women didn't really spend any time alone together, but he never picked up on anything from either of them that led him to think Judith's background was still an issue.He was quite sure that Bill probably had worked on Julia a bit, but he didn't ask any questions.Mainly, he just tried to focus on Jake and his recovery.And he didn't allow himself to think about the woman who was awaiting trial for what she had done to his grandson except to once again be grateful to Judith because without her the woman might not have made it even that far into the justice system.

On the way home Sunday night, Judith seemed content."Thanks for making me go, Lennie.It was the right thing."

"I won't say, 'I told you so,' but I am glad everything worked out."And he also was content.

On Monday morning at the 2-7, Ed greeted him with the news that they had a floater.

"Oh, goodie – fish food.Just the way I love to start off the week."

"Well, actually, not technically a floater, I guess.This one was dumped in the shallows off Pier 83."

"Oh, that's even better.Give the tourists a chance to see New York at its best.Why do you say 'dumped?'"

"He was bound and gagged, Lennie."

"Let's go."

At the pier tourists rubbernecked from the deck of the tour liner, some even snapping pictures."Like they never have dead bodies in Kansas?" quipped Ed.

"Sure they do.Don't you remember _In Cold Blood_?

"Yeah, but that was a while ago.None since then?"

"Apparently not."

The body was that of a white male.Age was hard to tell, but Lennie thought maybe around fifty, judging from the gray in his hair.Dressed in a business suit, he was in a fetal position with hands bound behind his back and ankles tied together.A gag was secured in his mouth with a short length of rope, and duct tape dangled loosely from his eyes.

"Do we know who he is, or is that too easy?" he asked.

"No wallet," a CSU guy replied."Taken or fell out, I can't say.There was some crumpled stuff in his jacket pocket – paper – but it's pretty soaked.Can't tell what it said."

He handed Lennie a couple of plastic evidence bags containing pulpy messes.One of them was colorful – all primary colors and some gold and silver.Maybe once a Christmas card? Lennie wondered.The other probably had been newspaper clippings.He sighed.They'd take them to the lab, of course, but it didn't look like much to go on.

There wasn't much to do but get the body to the M.E. and check Missing Persons.

"So, what do you think, Lennie?Someone throw this guy in here to drown?"

Lennie shuddered and hoped not.What a hell of a horrible way to go."Well, we can be pretty sure he probably didn't roll himself in, but we'll have to wait for Rodgers to tell us more."

Later that afternoon, she did.

"He didn't drown," she told them, and Lennie was unaccountably relieved to hear that."Heart attack.Probably about 72 hours ago."

"Well, there'd be no point to tying him up after he had a heart attack, so I'm guessing that caused it?"

"Can't tell you that for sure, but it's entirely likely."

"Injuries?" asked Ed.

"Some bruising, consistent with being grabbed and subdued.Nothing real serious."

"Anything that tells you who he is?" Lennie asked.

"No, but I don't think you're going to have to worry about that for long."

"What makes you think that?"

"A fifteen-hundred dollar suit makes me think that.Someone'll be looking for him pretty soon."

Ed sighed."Well, it's back to Missing Persons."

"And don't forget another canvass for witnesses," Lennie added."That's always fun."

But neither the canvass nor Missing Persons yielded any helpful clues, so Lennie and Ed gave it up for the evening.Lennie had a vague feeling that this one was bothering him more than most.Perhaps if it'd just been that the guy was bound, or if he were in just in the water, but the two together was giving him the creeps.So preoccupied was he with the case, in fact, that he did something he couldn't recall having done in years – he dreamed about it.He dreamed he saw the guy in the water although he actually hadn't.He woke up from that one and willed it out of his mind.The next thing as he was drifting off again was that he saw vivid colors – reds, a bright blue, yellow, green.And gold – sparkly gold, damnit!He sat bolt upright in bed and tried to think clearly.He might have imagined it, but he didn't think so._Okay, _he told himself_ – think!Where is it?_

Go to Chapter Three --


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

            Judith was asleep beside him.  He shook her more roughly than he intended, and she woke with a start.  "Lennie?  What in the. . .   You scared me.  Is everything okay?"

            "The brochure.  Do you still have yours?"

            "What are you talking about?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.

            "The brochure from the exhibit.  Do you still have it from that night?"

            "I don't know.  Maybe."

            "Think!"

            "What's wrong with you?  What time is it anyway?"

            "Never mind that.  Just think – if you still have it, where would it be?"

            "Oh, goodness, I don't know.  Why?"

            "I need to look at it."

            "Where's yours?"

            "It's in the jacket I wore that night, and that's in my apartment."

            "And you need it now?"

            "Yes!"

            "Oh, um. . .   Hmmm. . .   I guess if it's anywhere, it's in the purse I used that night."

            "Get it."

            "Now?"

            "Yes!"

            She switched on the light on the bedside table and looked at him.  "Are you going crazy or something?"

            "No.  I just need to see it.  I. . .   I've thought of something."

            "Okay," she said resignedly.  "God, it's only 4am.  Do you know that?" she complained as she got out of bed and went to her closet.

            He didn't answer but waited impatiently as she looked through her closet and brought the purse back to the bed.

            "Is it in there?"

            "I don't know.  Let me look here in the light."  She rummaged some in the bag and pulled out the brochure.  "Bingo.  Are you happy now?"

            "Yes.  Turn off the light, and go back to sleep."

            He got out of bed and, brochure in hand, started for the living room.  She hurled his pillow at his back and said, "You are crazy, you know it!"

            By 5:30 Lennie was dressed for work, sitting at the kitchen table and sipping coffee and still looking at the brochure.  Judith in a robe and slippers padded sleepily in.

            He looked up.  "Did you get back to sleep."

            "No – yes.  I don't know.  Maybe I did.  What in the hell are you doing, Lennie?"

            "Just going into work a little early.  You go back to bed.  You've got plenty more time to sleep."

            Instead she sat down and looked at him curiously.  "What's going on with that brochure?"

            "Nothing.  I just had an idea about it."

            "In the middle of the night?"

            He shrugged.

            "You going to tell me what it is?"

            "Just something I need to talk to Ed about."

            "You're not going to tell me?"

            "Sorry, no."

            "Even if I'm dying of curiosity?"

            "You won't die.  Go back to sleep."

            She sighed.  "It's useless, isn't it?"

            "Yup."

            "What are you even going to do this early?  Everything's still closed."

            "The NYPD never closes.  You know that."  He stood and bent to kiss her.  "I'll see you tonight, okay?  I'm really sorry about waking you."

            At the 2-7, he retrieved the two evidence bags, glad that they hadn't yet sent them to the lab.  The newspaper-looking stuff he set aside but studied closely the other bag.  Then he pulled out the brochure and set it beside the bag.  Yes, it could be.  It definitely could be, but he was going to need the lab to tell him for sure.  And he was going to be on their doorstep and make sure they made it job one.  Hastily he left Ed a note and headed over there.

            Three hours later he was back in the squad room.

            "I'll be damned," said Ed.  "So, our guy could be one of the clients?"

            "It sure fits.  You get anything from Missing Persons this morning?"

            "Not a thing."

            "Well, there's only one obvious next step."

            "The gallery – I hear ya.  I'll call Carmichael to get a warrant."

            Lennie had a call of his own to make.  He wanted Judith out of that place before they executed any warrant.

            Learning that she and her assistant had gone across town to look at a piece of sculpture, he swore softly.  No, no one seemed to know the number where she had gone, but they figured she'd be back probably in a couple hours or less.  

            _Oh, just great, _he thought_._  Probably she'd walk right in on it.  And what was she doing out wandering around the city without letting anyone know where she was.  He'd have to talk to her about that.

            "Okay.  Thanks, Abbie," Ed was saying and hung up.  "She says that if we're absolutely sure that mess in the bag and the brochure are the same thing, she won't have any problem getting a warrant, and she'll messenger it right over here."

            "She's springing for that?"

            "I think this abduction art thing has been bugging her as much as it has us.  Anyway, it'll save us a trip.  Listen, Lennie, I was thinking while I was on the phone that maybe you might want to call Judith and suggest she go home sick or something."

            "Way ahead of you.  I called, but she's out on some job."

            "And you can't reach her?"

            "Nope."

            "Well, maybe it'll be okay.  There's really no need to get rough.  Could be we won't even have to show them the warrant if they're willing to show us what we want."

            "Think it's going to be that easy?"

            "I don't know, Lennie.  You know more about these people than I do."

            "And that ain't a hell of a lot."

            Lennie tried a couple more times to reach Judith, but when the messenger arrived with the warrant, they had to leave for the gallery.

            There in the manager's outer office the secretary kindly told them that they were free to look at the guest book, of course, because that was a public item, but she declined to give them any further information, saying that it was "private."  Ed just as kindly explained to her that that wasn't the way it works.

            "Well, um, in that case, you are going to have to speak to Mr. Kirkpatrick."

            "So, please tell him we're here," smiled Ed.

            "Mr. Kirkpatrick never sees anyone without an appointment.  If you like. . . " and she opened a calendar, ". . . I can put you down for Thursday afternoon at. . . "

            Lennie sighed.  It was going to be the hard way.  "You can put us down for now," he said and placed the warrant on her desk.

            "Oh, um, well – I see.  I'll, um, see if he's free."

            "Yeah, you do that."

            "Mr. Kirkpatrick," she said into the phone, "There are two police detectives here to see you.  I think that their business is rather urgent."

            In just a moment the manager emerged from his office.  He and Lennie vaguely recognized each other from having seen each other in passing on Lennie's visits to the gallery.

            "You're the one who. . . " began Kirkpatrick.

            "Yes," interrupted Lennie, not wanting to bring Judith into this.

            "What can I do for you gentleman?"

            "Mr. Kirkpatrick," said Ed, "We're here regarding the 'Urban Experience' exhibit."

            "Ah, yes – a wonderful show.  It's been a big success for us.  Have you seen it?"

            "Yeah," said Lennie.  "We've both had the pleasure.  What we need is information regarding it."

            "Certainly.  I'll get Ms. Harris here to give you a brochure and catalog.  Now, if you'll excuse. . . "

            "No, sir – that's not gonna get it," Ed told him.  "We need to take your guest book with us, we need your invitation list, and we need the name and address of the _artiste_."

            "I'm sorry, but that is not the kind of information we can give out.  Our artists and guests expect privacy."

            "Oh, you ever hear of any artist-gallery privilege, Ed?"

            "Nope, I haven't."

            "You see, Mr. Kirkpatrick," Lennie explained patiently, "That's because there isn't any.  You don't have a choice about this."

            "Well, then, perhaps you'd care to step into my office," and he gestured them in.  He began to follow them but stopped and whispered something to the secretary.  All Lennie could hear was, ". . . call Tony. . ."         

            In the office, he invited them to take the chairs across from his desk.

            "Now, perhaps you gentleman could explain to me why you are looking for this information.  Maybe we can work something out."

            "Look," said Ed, "We don't even have to tell you this, but you might be interested to know that there is one very dead man in the morgue with one of the "Urban Experience" brochures in his pocket."

            "Well, that is certainly regrettable, but many, many people have viewed this exhibit.  Why, I saw you yourself here on opening night, didn't I, Detective, um. . . "

            "Briscoe.  Yeah, you did.  But I'm not dead."

            "Still. . . "

            "Still nothing," Ed told him.  "You're not getting it.  We're not here to debate this with you."

            Just then the secretary tapped on the door and opened it to admit Tony – and Judith.  Lennie jumped up when he saw her.

            "Lennie?  What are you doing here in Alan's office?  What's going on?" 

            "What's she doing here, Kirkpatrick?" Lennie demanded.  "She's no part of this."

            "I asked her here.  Judith, I believe you know these two gentleman."

            "Yes, of course.  You know I do."  

            "Now, just a minute," said Tony who had been staring intently at Ed.  "I know you.  Yes, yes, yes, I do know you."  He began moving around the room nervously and pointed a long finger at Ed.  "I know this one, Alan.  He's been here before."

            "Judith, leave now," Lennie told her.  

            "Now, just a minute," said Kirkpatrick.  "You can't come in here and order my employees out of my office.  Judith, you stay until we sort this out.  I was hoping that maybe you could explain to your friend. . . "

            Tony was still dancing around the room and pointing at Ed.  "He's the one.  I'll bet all three of them are in this together."

            Lennie wasn't having any more of this.  He went to where Judith was standing, put his hands on her shoulders, and propelled her out the office door and shut it on her and the astonished secretary.

            "You have no right. . . "

            "Shut up, Kirkpatrick!" Lennie snapped.  "And you, Tony, you shut up, too, and sit down!"

            "Alan, I'm telling you – this is a plot.  It's Judith.  She must be out to get us."

            "Tony, what in the hell are you talking about?" asked Kirkpatrick.

            "This one here.  He showed up while I was mounting the exhibit.  He pretended to be interested, but now I know he was just nosing around.  Trying to make trouble, he is."

            "Yo, Tony, my man – you don't know how much trouble I can make if we don't get what we came here for, and I mean right now!"

            "Alan, what do they want?"

            Kirkpatrick was nervously running his hands through his hair.  "Fine.  Fine.  You want the guest book and the invitation list?  Fine.  You can take them.  Then please just leave.  And don't come back."

            "Apparently, you didn't hear my partner when he explained this to you the first time, Mr. Kirkpatrick," said Lennie.  "There was something else we came for, and we're not leaving without it."

            "Alan, what do they want?" asked Tony again.

            "Our 'Urban Experience' artist."

            "Well, they may not have him," sniffed Tony.  "You know that."

            "Hey, you don't get a vote!" Ed snapped at him.

            "Look, Mr. Kirkpatrick, we can tear this place apart.  Look in all your records.  See who you've written checks to since that damn exhibit opened.  You want us to do that?"

            Kirkpatrick shrugged.  "Do it.  But I'll save you a lot of trouble and tell you that you won't find any name."

            "Yeah?  And why is that?"

            "Goodness, Officer," sighed Tony impatiently, "I'm sure I explained all of this to you at the opening.  Genius. . . "

            ". . .'prefers to remain elusive    .'  Yeah, yeah.  So, how does this genius get paid?"

            Kirkpatrick and Tony looked uneasily at each other.  Finally, Kirkpatrick said, "Detectives, it's just as Tony explained to you.  This artist prefers to maintain his privacy.  We have, er, ways of being sure the proceeds from his sales are made available to him."

            "Oh, I'm sure the taxman is going to love hearing about that," laughed Lennie.  "Look, are you guys gonna cough up a name or not?"

            Kirkpatrick and Tony looked at each other again.

            "Let's be reasonable here, Detective.  Maybe we can work something out.  Now Judith. . . "

            "What about her?"

            "Well, I'd be prepared to look the other way about her part in this little. . . "

            That did it for both Lennie and Ed.  Lennie went and pulled Kirkpatrick to his feet, and Ed did the same to Tony.

            "Wait a minute!  What are you. . . "

            "What on earth?" squealed Tony.

            "You both are obstructing a criminal investigation, and we're arresting you for it."

            "Tony?" asked Ed.  "You have a last name?  I always like to know who I'm arresting."

            "You can't. . . "

            In short order the two men were in handcuffs and being marched out of the office.  Kirkpatrick told his secretary to call his lawyer.  Tony said, "Yes, call his lawyer."  Lennie was glad that Judith was nowhere to be seen.

            At the 2-7, Kirkpatrick's lawyer, Mr. Pancetti, already was waiting for them.  An incredibly nervous little man, he was informing everyone who would listen that this was the first time in his whole life he ever had been inside a police station.

            "Put him in the room with his two clients, would you please," Van Buren begged Lennie and Ed.  "This guy won't shut up."

            "And neither will Tony," groused Lennie.  "I wish some people would take the 'right to remain silent' literally."

            "Well, then they deserve each other," she said.  "Let 'em talk."

            They watched through the glass of the IR as the three of them conferred in what appeared to be a highly unsatisfactory conversation all around.  Mr. Pancetti, looking even more nervous than when he arrived, emerged from the room and said he had to go make a call.

            "Go play study hall monitor, Lennie," said Van Buren.  "I don't want these two to have a chance to concoct a coherent story."

            When Lennie entered the room, Tony jumped up with his arms flailing excitedly.  "You can't come in here!  You're not allowed to question us when our lawyer is not here.  I know my rights!"

            "Question you?" said Lennie wearily.  "I don't even want to talk to you."

            "Sit down, Tony," Kirkpatrick told him.  "Don't make things worse."

            "That's real good advice from your boss, Tony."

            A few minutes later, the lawyer returned, and Lennie exited.  And then Mr. Pancetti left again to make another call.  And then a third time.  

            When Pancetti, looking increasingly unhappy, returned that third time, Lennie asked Van Buren, "What do you think is going on with these guys?"

            "My guess is that they're not getting the answers they want from the lawyer, and he's probably going to call someone with more experience in criminal law to find out what to do."

            When Pancetti emerged a fourth time, Van Buren asked him, "Mr. Pancetti, how long is this little drama going to go on?  You know, I hope to retire in the next fifteen years or so."

            "My clients, um. . .   Lieutenant, I've advised my clients that now would be a good time to talk to your detectives."

            "Okay, guys, do you thing."

            Lennie and Ed entered the IR to find both Kirkpatrick and Tony looking extremely displeased and put upon.  They were glaring at both their lawyer and the two cops with equal distaste.  

            "This isn't fair," complained Tony.  "It's just like Nazi Germany, it is."

            "You think you'd'a gotten a lawyer in Nazi Germany, Tony?" Ed asked him.

            "Well, um, actually, Detective," the lawyer put in, "The German justice system did continue to function during. . . "

            "I'm sure that's fascinating, Counselor," Lennie cut him off.  "But right now we're more interested in the New York City justice system continuing to function – and it's your clients who are holding it up."

            "Alan," said Pancetti, looking meaningfully at Kirkpatrick.

            "I still don't see why we have to answer them," grumbled Tony.  "Journalists wouldn't have to.  Doctors wouldn't have to.  And this is so much bigger than any of that – this is _art_!"

            "Shut up, Tony," said Kirkpatrick.

            "Look," said Lennie, "Let's cut to the chase.  I'm sure Mr. Pancetti has explained to you that this is all pretty simple.  You have two choices: You'll tell us the name of the so-called artist, or you'll be spending at least the night on Rikers.  Personally, the first would make my life easier, but I'm really starting to enjoy the idea of the second."

            "That's a threat!  That's a threat!  Everyone heard him.  Isn't that police intimidation or something?"

            "No," said Pancetti.  "The detective was stating a fact.  We've been over this several times.  Alan, you and Tony know what you have to do."

            "Alan, I really think you should find someone more expensive than this shyster," Tony said, but everyone ignored him.

            "Gentleman," said Kirkpatrick, "You really cannot appreciate the incredibly difficult position in which this places me.  Perhaps if you could explain to me once more how your dead person. . . "

            "Lennie, what time that bus leave for Rikers?" Ed asked.

            "Alan," said Pancetti warningly, "I can't save you from this.  No lawyer could."

            "And if we tell you, we walk out of here?"

            "Yeah, but just keep yourselves real available until we find out for sure that you didn't have anything to do with it," said Lennie.

            "It's reasonable, Alan.  They could hold you for just what you've done already – or rather what you haven't done – even if you told them.

            "All right, all right," Kirkpatrick said resignedly.  

            "Oooooo, noooooo," squealed Tony.  "Alan!  You can't do that!  You simply cannot!"

            "Tony," said Ed.  "This is the last time anyone gonna tell you shut up.  Once more, and you will be on that bus to Rikers without your man Alan here." 

            "The name, Kirkpatrick," Lennie demanded.

            "It's Coco Rapina."

            "Coco Rapina?" blinked Ed incredulously.  "Are we going to find this name in the phonebook?"

            "Of course not," sniffed Tony.  "You don't know anything at all."

            "So, where do we find Mr. Rapina?" asked Lennie.

            Kirkpatrick shrugged.  "I don't have that information.  The name is all I know."

He started to get up, but Lennie pushed him back in his chair.    

"Not so fast.  All this trouble for some cockamamie name that probably isn't even real?  You think we're going to let you go for that?"             

"That was the deal, wasn't it?"

"There you go again with that poor memory acting up.  Any _deal_ was for a name _and_ an address."

            "Be reasonable, Detective.  I can't tell you what I don't know."

            "But what you do know is how this Coco Rapina gets paid.  Look, I am getting really, really sick of waltzing around with you on this."

            "I only know the beginning of the process."

            "Well, we're waiting," said Ed.

            Kirkpatrick glanced at Tony who was looking positively green.  Finally, he said, "I write checks for cash, and. . . "

            Lennie pounded his hand on the table.  "And what?  Listen, Kirkpatrick, I am about ten seconds away from. . . "

            "I give it to Tony – okay?  I give it to Tony."

            "You give _all_ of it to Tony?"

            "There's the commission for the gallery, of course."

            "And how about a commission for Alan?  You keep some of it, too?"

            Kirkpatrick was silent.

            "Look, Kirkpatrick," said Lennie, making a great effort to sound reasonable, "We're not the fucking IRS – okay?  We don't care what you're skimming.  We only want to know what the arrangement is so that we can find this guy."

            "It's not skimming – exactly."

            "What is it?"

            "It's all part of the agreement."

            "And now would be a really good time to tell us about that agreement," Ed pointed out.

            "Well, when Tony came to me with the idea for the show, I didn't want to touch it."

            "You know, that's the first thing you've said all day that's made any sense," said Lennie.  "Could be you might just be on your way to talking yourself out of this hole.  Keep it up."

            Tony slumped dramatically on the table with his head in his arms and wailed.  Ed cuffed him lightly on the head.  "We're gonna get to you in a minute, man, but right now I'm warning you that you better hush that screeching."

            "Police brutality," moaned Tony.

            "You were saying, Kirkpatrick?" asked Lennie, wanting to move things along.

            "Well, as I said, I wasn't at all interested, but Tony tried to convince me that it would be a huge hit – which, I might add, it has been – but I knew that I'd have real trouble selling it to the gallery owners.  Tony said that if I could do that, there would be something extra.  I didn't understand how that could work until Tony explained that Rapina would want to be paid in cash anyway.  I've. . .  I've never done anything like this before."

            "Well, don't feel bad, Alan.  Every great criminal was once a beginner," Lennie observed.

            "So, I can go now?" asked Kirkpatrick hopefully.

            "Oh, I don't think you're gonna want to miss the second act.  Okay, Tony – you're on."

            Ed pulled Tony upright by his collar.  "You hear him, bro?"

            "I have absolutely nothing to say.  And I'm firing this lawyer."

            "You never hired me in the first place," Pancetti pointed out.  "I was only trying to help you as a courtesy to Alan."

            "Nevertheless," said Tony, fussily straightening his shirt.  "I want a real attorney – someone who knows about these sorts of matters."

            "I'll give you some names," sighed Pancetti.

            "You do that.  And I'll call and interview them.  And you police persons should know that that might take quite some time because after this fiasco, I assure you that I am going to be pret-ty particular about who represents me."

            "I assume that Mr. Kirkpatrick is free to go?" Pancetti asked them as he rapidly jotted some names for Tony.  "It should be obvious that he's told you all he knows."

            "Just as long as he doesn't take any sudden trips.  We may be needing to talk to him again.  And, Kirkpatrick – just a personal word from me to you – Judith doesn't even imagine that anyone at that gallery even looks cross-eyed at her.  You got that?"

            "Is that a threat, Detective Briscoe?" asked Kirkpatrick, now regaining some of his composure.

            "No.  It's a personal understanding between you and me."

            "Let's go, Alan," urged Pancetti.  "My best advice is that there's no need in antagonizing anyone further today."

            The two men left and Tony glanced from Lennie to Ed.  "Oh, don't mind me.  Why don't the two of you just go on about your business – whatever it might be.  I'm perfectly content."

            "Listen, you creep. . . " Ed began, and Lennie could see that his partner was building up quite a bit of steam, so he put his hand on his arm and drew him back.

            "Don't, Ed.  It's not worth it.  Let's let the DAs sort him out."

            "I can make him talk, Lennie."

            "I don't doubt that, but I'm just not up to breaking in a new partner.  Come on – let's go."

            Van Buren, having observed the whole process, was waiting for them.  "Don't feel bad, Ed.  Lennie's right.  That strange little fellow is not going to talk.  You know, I think he's afraid."

            "Yeah, he oughta be," said Ed, disgruntled.

            "No, I mean of this Rapina character.  Did you see how he looked whenever his name was mentioned?"

            "I was concentrating on Kirkpatrick at the time," Lennie said thoughtfully, "But, you know, you could be right."

            "Well, we've _still_ got nothing from Missing Persons – which is odd about a guy in a thousand buck suit – so, let's call Carmichael and see what she wants to do with Tony.  And, face it, guys, this one's gonna take a while longer than we'd like."

            And it did.  Lennie and Ed intermittently caught up on paperwork while they waited for Tony to find a lawyer, waited for the lawyer to show up, waited for Tony to talk to him, waited for Abbie to get out of court, and waited while she and the other lawyer negotiated a deal for protection of Tony at Rikers.  Finally, they were able to ask him some of the questions to which they really wanted answers.

            "Okay, Tony," said Lennie, very tired by now, "You ready to tell us about this Rapina?"

            "Anything you want to know."

            "Well, for openers, what's the deal with this abduction crap?"

            "That 'crap,' as you call it, Detective, happens to be a very lucrative venture, not to mention a marvelous source of the raw material of experiential art."

            "Let's skip the art part for now and get to the lucrative," suggested Ed.  "Exactly what does he get paid for?"

            "Well, for the art, of course, but you already know about that.  He also gets paid for the service he provides.  And, you see, this is what makes it all so wondrous.  He confounds and conflates his subjects with. . . "

            "Yeah, yeah – save that part for your memoirs.  Get back to the lucrative service stuff," Lennie urged.

            "Well, if you are really not interested in an analysis of. . . "

            "Trust me – we're not."

            "All right.  Well, if you want to be just as crass as you can be about the whole thing, Coco Rapina stages abductions."

            "My god, Lennie," Ed complained.  "We don't know anything more about this now than the first day we heard about it."

            "Don't worry, Ed.  Tony's going to tell us more – a lot more.  For example, Tony, why do people pay him to kidnap them?"

            "For the excitement, of course, silly."

            "Okay, scratch that.  I'm not even going to go there.  Tell us more about _how_ he does it.  Obviously, he doesn't do it all himself because we saw various people on the tapes.  Who are they?"

            "Well, at first they were just other artists – you know, those not of Coco's genius who needed a little extra income, but that didn't work out very well."

            "Why not?"

            "I couldn't expect persons such as yourselves to fully understand this, but artists tend to be gentle, sensitive souls, and it's not really in their nature to do the kind of work Coco and his clients required in order to maintain the authenticity of the artistic production."

            "So, he went out and hired himself some authentic thugs?  Is that what you're saying?" asked Ed.

            "Well, I wouldn't have put it so bluntly myself, but, yes, he did recruit persons whose talents and backgrounds were better suited to the enterprise."

            "Hey, I guess if you want a job done right,. . . , eh, Tony?" commented Lennie.

            "Exactly."

            "Okay, Tony," said Ed.  "Explain this. . .   Kidnapping's a crime, so how is it that no one knows all these abductions took place?  What about all those people on the street we saw on the tapes."

            "What about them?" shrugged Tony.  "They see someone with a video camera, and they figure it's a movie or a TV show.  That was never a problem.  And I must correct you – there were no crimes committed."

            "Yeah?  And how do you figure that?" asked Lennie.

            "Because it's what the clients want, of course."

            "Well, we'll let Mr. Rapina sort that one out with the DA, but right now, why don't you tell us what happens to these people after they are kidnapped?"

            "Well, that depends."

            Lennie sighed and had a feeling he probably was going to be sorry he asked.  "Depends on what?"

            "It depends on what you pay."

            "Now you're talking about those ordeals, right?" asked Ed.

            "Yes of course.  If you want to do this on the cheap, you could just be grabbed off the street, fight back as much as you want, of course – that's in the basic package – but then you are released relatively quickly.  However, you can add on pretty much whatever you like, but that's where it gets expensive."

            "You talking about the chains and whips now?" Ed asked.

            "If that's your preference.  Some like the gothic dungeon.  On the other hand, one woman wanted a suite at the Plaza and an Arab prince.  That cost her a good bundle, but Coco got a lovely pastel out of it."

            "How about just your basic bound and gagged?" wondered Lennie.

            "Doesn't sound like much imagination there, but I suppose the cost would depend on the setting.  Really, Detectives, I don't have a price list or anything.  Those details were not my job."

            "What was your job?"

            "Arranging for the show.  You see, Coco was doing okay, but word of mouth wasn't quite getting him the exposure he wanted.  Yet plain garden-variety advertising didn't seem to be the way to go.  But if I could mount a show that would generate interest and customers. . .   Well, then, you see the possibilities."

            Lennie asked, "Well, did it work?"

            "Oh, Detective, you have no idea!  Demand for Coco's service has increased tenfold since opening night.  He has a waiting list.  And he has raised his fees through the roof!  You simply would not believe how much. . .   Well, um, I suppose you don't need to hear about that."

            "Well, actually, Tony, that does bring us around to what we do need to hear about," said Lennie.  "Rapina – where can we find him?"

            "Find him?"  Tony blinked.  "You mean right now?"

            Lennie closed his eyes for a minute and hoped he could keep control.  "Yes, we mean right now."  His voice rose.  "Just why in hell do you think we've been going round and round with you and Kirkpatrick ever since this fucking morning?"

            "You don't have to yell," said Tony, offended.  "Tell him he doesn't have to yell at me," he said to his lawyer.

            "Look, man," said Ed, "This guy's an artist right?  Artists have studios, don't they?  Doesn't Rapina have a studio?"

            "Oh, of course he does.  It's just that it floats."

            "Floats?" asked Ed.

            "Yes," said Tony, waving his hand around in the air.  "You know here, there.  Coco says it keeps his work fresh."

            "And where would he be freshening his work right now?" Lennie asked wearily.

            "I'm afraid I don't know that."

            "Well, then how in hell do you guys do the money thing?"

            "He will call me when he gets settled."

            "Where?  At the gallery or at home?"

            "Either.  But he may not call for a while because now he's making as much or more from his service as he does from the sales."

            "Okay, Tony, here's what we need you to do."  Ed slid a notepad and a pen across the table to him.  "You write down every place this floating studio has been.  And every place you know of where these 'ordeals' have taken place."

            "Oh, all right.  And then are we finished?  Because I'm getting very tired, you know."

            "Tony, I have a couple more questions for you," Lennie said seriously, "And you better, by God, tell the truth."

            "Okay, okay.  Whatever.  I am so sick of all this."

            "First, does anyone else at the gallery know anything about what you've told us or know Rapina?"

            "Alan knows most of it, but, no, absolutely no one else knows Rapina."

            "You're sure of that?"

            "Really, Detective, an artist of his caliber does not associate with just anyone, you know."

            "And, so, why are you afraid of him?" Lennie asked quietly.

            The hand Tony was writing with faltered, and he didn't look up.  "Afraid?  What an absurd idea."

            "The truth, Tony."

            "Well, it's not Coco as such.  At least I don't think so."

            "Who then?"

            "It's his associates."

            "The thugs on the tapes?"

            "Yes.  Well, not at first I wasn't.  There were only a few of them then, but since the show, Coco has had to – well, expand his operation, so to speak.  There's. . .   There's a lot of money involved now.  I think some of them won't like it if. . .   Well, you understand."

            Lennie did, and he didn't like it at all.

            Back in Van Buren's office, she asked, "Okay, so where are we with this?"

            "We know the details of the operation, we know where this Rapina character previously has hung his shingle, and we have Tony with a sketch artist – to which he objected because he said he didn't want to work with a 'hack,'" answered Ed.

            "But nothing that connects him to the well-dressed dead guy other than the brochure."

            "No.  That's still our only really solid lead," said Ed.  "That's why we've got to turn up this Rapina."

            "You know, Lieu, I still think that the fastest way. . . "

            "No.  I know what you're going to say, Lennie, and you are not going to get yourself or anyone else kidnapped.  Besides, I doubt the Department could afford the fee."

            "There's that," Ed agreed.  "Plus Tony said that there's now a waiting list, so there's no telling how long it might take to happen."

            "Well, you may as well go home and get some rest, gentlemen, because tomorrow commences some good old-fashioned pounding of the pavement."

            Lennie was not particularly looking forward to going home to Judith.  She'd have all kinds of questions, the answers to which wouldn't be good for her to hear.  He was afraid that if she heard about the bound and gagged victim she'd be upset for days.  Briefly he considered pleading tiredness, which certainly was more than true, and spending the night at his own apartment.  No, he really was going to have to talk to her about this.  There was just too much going on that he didn't like.

            He was surprised to find her not at home when he got there.  It was almost six-thirty, and she rarely worked this late.  He supposed she could have stopped to do some shopping, but he was feeling uneasy and started to consider going to the gallery to find out if she were still there or when she left.  Just then he heard her key in the lock.

            "Working late?" he asked as he helped her with her coat.

            "No."

            "Well, it doesn't look like you've been shopping."

            "I stopped by the library."

            "Why?"

            "To catch up on the newspapers.  Lennie, come sit down with me.  We've got to talk."

            On the couch in the living room, she asked, "You going to tell me what's happening?"

            "With what?" he stalled.

            "Lennie!  Don't treat me like an idiot, please.  You seemed very distracted all last evening, you wake up at four a.m. demanding to see that exhibit brochure, you and Ed show up in my boss' office, and I hear later that you actually arrested him and Tony?  And I'm not supposed to figure out something is happening?"

            Lennie sighed but didn't say anything.

            "Okay, fine," she said.  "I've been doing some very interesting reading about what's been going on in this city the last couple days."

            "Judith, you know that's only going to upset. . . "

            "And you know what I find out?  A dead body was found yesterday."

            "It's a city of eight-million people.  That happens every day."

            "Bound and gagged?  And in the water?  My god, Lennie!"

            "I really didn't want you to be having to think about this."

            "Well, I am thinking about it, and I don't have to be a genius to be thinking that you're thinking that it has something to do with 'Urban Experience.'"

            "Okay.  You're right.  And you're right that we do need to talk about this, but I just wanted to spare you the gory details."

            "Well, so, this dead man was bound and gagged I assume similarly to what we saw in that damned exhibit?  Is that what made you connect it?"

            "Partly.  Technically, I shouldn't tell you this because it's part of the investigation, but we found a wadded up exhibit brochure in the jacket pocket.  I didn't recognize it at first because it was soaked, but then. . . "

            "Then it came to you in the middle of the night.  Okay, I understand that part now.  Can you tell me who this man is – er, was?"

            "We don't know that.  That's what we were hoping Kirkpatrick and Tony would help us find out."

            "And you had to arrest them to do that?"

            "Hey, that was their choice.  They tried their damnedest to keep from telling us what they know."

            "Why on earth wouldn't they want to help?"

            Resignedly, he gave her the highlights of the interviews with Kirkpatrick and Tony – minus Tony's fears.

            "My god, Lennie," she breathed. "This is horrible!  Just horrible!"

            "Tell me about it."

            "I always thought Tony was sleazy, but for Alan to be involved in something like this!"

            "Some people just never can resist a little something under the table.  He knew the exhibit wasn't a good idea, but he ignored his better judgment and went for the bucks."

            "And you are sure that this Coco Rapina killed the man?"

            "Well, that gets a little complicated."

            "How?"  

            These were details Lennie really didn't want to get into because he was sure it was going to cause her to think once again about Stephen Campbell, but she knew too much for him to stop now, and there were some important things she was going to have to realize anyhow.

            "First of all, no one killed him.  He died of a heart attack."

            "Well, so would I if someone did that to me.  Wouldn't Rapina still be responsible?"

            "Probably, but we don't yet have any direct evidence that proves that.  We don't even know for sure that this has anything at all to do with Rapina."

            "But what do you think, Lennie?  You've got to have some sort of gut instinct about this, don't you?"

            He closed his eyes for a moment and then told her.  "Yeah, you're right – I am sure.  I just can't prove it yet."

            "What do you think happened?"

            "I think the vic signed up for the abduction, he had a bad ticker, Rapina's assistants went too far.  When they realize what happened, they panic and dump him."

            "Oh, God!" she said and went white.  She looked like she was going to be ill.

            He put his hands on her shoulders.  "Look, Judith, there is nothing you can do about the dead man.  But there is something I need you to do for yourself."

            "What?"

            "Go stay with your mother for a while."

            "For heaven's sake, why?"

            "By tomorrow, we're going to be circulating pictures of both the victim and Rapina, and I want you out of the way."

            "You're going to be spending a lot of time on the case – I get that.  But it's no reason to send me away.  And that would be so far for me to come and go to work."

            "No, you're not getting it, Judith.  You're not going back to the gallery."

            "Of course, I am.  It's my job."

            "You're on an indefinite leave of absence as of right now."

            "Lennie, this doesn't make any sense."

            "It makes perfect sense.  You're going to have to trust me."

            "No."

            "You don't trust me?"

            "Of course, I trust you.  That's not what I mean, and you know it.  I'm just not going to take this on trust."

            "You're going to have to."

            "What was Ed saying about a time warp?"

            "Oh, for God's sake, this doesn't have anything to do with that!"

            "It doesn't?  You tell. . .   No, you _order_ me to practically quit my job and leave my own home?  You know, I can go check the calendar, but I'm pretty sure that the last time I looked this was the twenty-first damn century!"

            "Let's not fight, Judith.  This is the wrong thing to fight over."

            "Well, then, what's the right thing?  Because I'm not going anywhere until you give me a reason why I should."

            "I don't want to get into things that you don't have any reason to know."

            "No reason to know?  You are not making any sense, Lennie.  And until you do, I'm staying put right where I am."

            "Please don't be stubborn.  Now really isn't the time."

            "Me?  Stubborn?  ME?"  She reached for her purse and fished out a compact.  "Just take a look there, pal!" she snapped, flipping open the mirror and holding it up to his face.

            He pushed it away.  "Look, I'm too tired for drama – okay?"

            "Hey, I'm not the one who turned this conversation into a production of _The Taming of the Shrew_!"

            "That's not fair," he protested.

            "What's not fair is you treating me like an idiot," she said evenly.

            "I'm not doing that.  I just don't want to frighten you."

            "We've been talking about a man bound and gagged, dead of a heart attack, and dumped in the river.  What could be more frightening than that?"

            "It happening to you."

                                                                                                Go to Chapter Four --


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

            She stared at him.  "And you think _I'm_ the one who worries?  What on earth would make you think that I'd pay to have myself kidnapped?"

            "That's not what I think might happen."

            She sighed.  "Obviously, there is something here you don't want to tell me about, but in the end you know you're going to have to.  Why don't you just make it easier on both of us?"

            Lennie had to smile.  "You been eavesdropping on our interrogations, or is this just a natural talent?"

            "I'm taking a correspondence course.  Don't try and change the subject."

            "Okay.  What do you want to know?"

            "I want to know whatever it is you don't want to tell me."

            "Look, Judith. . .   Aw, hell.  Listen, there are some not very nice people involved in all of this, you know."

            "Uhhhhhh, yeah, Lennie – I figured that part out.  I was the first one to see those tapes – remember?"

            "Well, there are more of them now, and the stakes are a lot higher," he said, and then he did tell her what Tony had said about being afraid of Rapina's operation.

            "But that has nothing to do with me."

            "It potentially could have everything to do with you.  Don't you see?  Unless he's flown away to Mars, pretty soon Rapina is going to know we're looking for him.  And I'm sure it's probably already all over the gallery that you had something to do with the arrests there this morning.  It's not a stretch that someone – Rapina and/or one of his merry crew – might put it together."

            "And come after me because you're. . . "

            "You've got it.  Satisfied?"

            "You really think that could happen?"

            "I don't know.  I hope not, but, as I said, it's not impossible.  So, first thing in the morning, I'm driving you to your mother's."

            "You've. . .   You've got to let me think about this."

            "There's nothing to think about."

            "Lennie. . .   Lennie, just please don't be that way.  I really can't stand it.  I'm not necessarily disagreeing with you, but I want to think it through on my own."

            "Well, while you're thinking, think about this – you want this abduction thing to stop, don't you?"

            "Of course.  You know I do."

            "The only way that's going to happen is if we bring in Rapina.  And I can't work on doing that if I'm constantly worrying about you.  You can understand that, can't you?"

            "Yes, sure.  Sure, I can understand that."

            "Then you'll go?"

            "Isn't there some other way?  I don't want to be stuck in Washington Heights away from you and with nothing to do for God knows how long."

            "It might not be that long if we get lucky."

            "But you can't say for sure."

            "You know it doesn't work that way."

            "So, this could be, like, weeks?"

            "I sure hope not, but just consider it a little vacation.  I'm sure your mother will enjoy having you around for a little while."

            "Talk about worrying.  Just _what_ am I going to tell her?"

            "I don't know.  Maybe I can help you come up with something after dinner.  I'm really hungry.  It's late, so you want to order take-out?"

            They ordered take-out but never did come up with any completely satisfactory story for Mrs. Schoenberg.

            "How about telling her you're not feeling well and just want to get some rest for a few days?" suggested Lennie.

            "Then we'll spend all day, every day, arguing about my going to a doctor.  I can't handle that."

            "Maybe you're having problems with me?"

            "After what I went through to get her even to be willing to meet you?  I don't think so."

            "Okay – here's a good one. . .   Your apartment's being renovated."

            "It just was before I moved in, and it hasn't been all that long.  And it would damn well have to be renovated before the next time she came over here.  Also she would wonder why I'm not going to work."

            "Well, neither of my ex-wives would believe I'm saying this, but when all else fails, there's always the truth."

            "Oh, right.  Let's see. . . 'Mother, Lennie's afraid professional kidnappers are going to come after me.'  That'll go over really well."   

            "It really might be the best thing.  You won't have any story to have to keep straight, and she can field phone calls in case anyone is looking for you."

            "But she'll worry.  And you know how she is."

            "Well, then, just tell her that she's been right all along and that you've discovered you really do have Stockholm Syndrome after all.  Let her go back to worrying about that."

            Despite the situation, Judith nearly choked on her laughter.  "Don't mention that, Lennie!  You know it always cracks me up."

            "At least it's the first time I've seen you smile all night."

            "There's not been much to smile about.  So, okay, I'll tell her the real story, and she'll just have to deal with it."

            "Why don't you call her now and tell her to expect you first thing and that you'll explain when you get there?"

            "Okay, good idea.  Then let's get you to bed – to _sleep_.  You've been up since four."

            When he arrived at the 2-7 the next morning, Ed looked pointedly at the clock.  "You're late, partner.  We've got a lot of work to do this morning."

            "I know, but I drove Judith to Washington Heights.  She's going to stay at her mother's place for a little while."

            "You're worried about them going after her, aren't you?"

            "You think that's far-fetched?"

            "Could be, but it's probably better being safe.  How'd you get her to go?"

            "Don't ask."

            "That bad, huh?"

            Lennie nodded.  "So, what do you want to do first?"

            "Well, I've got a pretty good feeling that we'll probably know who the vic is by sometime today, so let's you and I take Rapina's picture around to his previous digs and see if we can get a lead on where he might be now."

            Starting with the most recent address Tony had given them, they went to all four of Rapina's last studios, and it was a descent from pretty posh to decidedly seedy.  Sure, everyone remembered Rapina.  No, no one knew where he might be now.  And he always paid in cash.  They were about to start on the sites of the "ordeals," when Ed got a call on his cell.  Lennie could tell he was very pleased.

            "Our vic has a name, Lennie – Mr. Blake Carswell.  Some sort of big retail executive."

            "Got an address, I hope?"

            "On Central Park West."

            "We might have guessed that.  Let's go."

            At Blake Carswell's apartment building, they first talked to the doorman.

            "Mr. Carswell?  Sure I know him.  Nice enough guy, I guess."

            "When did you last see him?"

            "Oh, let's see. . .   Now that you mention it, it's been a while."

            "Like how long a while?"

            "Last Thursday – or Friday, maybe.  Definitely not since then."

            "Do you know if he left town?"

            "Can't say.  I'm not here 24/7, you know.  But I didn't see him leave with any luggage or anything like that."

            "Is this him?" Lennie showed him the picture from the morgue.

            The doorman recoiled.  "What happened to him?"

            "Is it him?"

            "Yeah. . .   Yes, that's him.  He doesn't look so good there, but that's him all right.  Is he dead?"

            "We're going to need to get a look in his apartment," Lennie told him.

            "You're going to have to talk to Mrs. Carswell about that."

            "Mrs. Carswell?  There's a Mrs. Carswell?  Where's she?"

            "In her apartment, of course.  She just gave some tea party or something.  All those lah-dee-dah ladies.  Some charity thing.  I think the last of them just left before you 

got here, but she hasn't come out.  This is gonna be a shock for her.  Terrible thing."

            "Thanks for your help."

            "Sure thing." And he let them into the building.

            In the elevator, Lennie and Ed just stared at each other.

            "Her husband's been missing for almost a week, and she's giving a tea party?" Lennie wondered aloud.

            "And she never reported him missing either.  So, she apparently doesn't know.  We're gonna have to tell her, Lennie.  Always fun."

            "Yeah, but I also want to find out where she thinks he is."

            "That'll be interesting."

            At the apartment door, they identified themselves to a uniformed maid.  "Certainly.  Please wait here.  I'll see if Mrs. Carswell is available," she told them.  In a few minutes she returned and said that Mrs. Carswell would see them in her study.

            Her "study" looked to Lennie like one very fancy living room.  Mrs. Carswell was seated on a sofa, her arm draped across the back of it.  A woman as elegant as her setting, she did not get up.  Lennie guessed her to be about Judith's age, but there the resemblance ended.  She was blonde with hair wrapped so tight on the top of her head that he couldn't imagine why it wasn't giving her a splitting headache.  

            "Do forgive me, gentlemen," she said without a trace of a smile.  "I've just hosted a little soiree, and I'm utterly exhausted.  How might I help you today?"

            "Actually, Mrs. Carswell, we're here about your husband," Ed told her.  "Look, may we sit down?"

            She languidly indicated a couple of armchairs but did not apologize for having left them standing.

            "Do you know where your husband is, Mrs. Carswell?" Lennie asked.

            "More or less.  Not exactly."

            "Not exactly?"

            "Oh, it's the Cascades or something.  One of those boring places where there are a lot of mountains and rivers.  I don't really know."

            _Well, she's got the river part right, _thought Lennie_._  "Haven't you heard from him?"

            "No.  Why would I?"

            _How about, for starters, because you're married? _he wanted to ask_,_ but instead he inquired how long Mr. Carswell had been gone.

            "Oh, the end of last week sometime.  I don't really remember."

            "And it doesn't concern you at all that you haven't heard from him?"

            "Of course not.  He's on one of those fantasy survival trips.  Foamy water boating or something.  Is that what they call it?"

            Lennie and Ed glanced at each other uneasily.  Could it be the doorman was mistaken and this wasn't the right guy at all?

            "Look, Mrs. Carswell, do you have a picture of your husband?"

            "Of course.  Somewhere."  And she looked around the room.  "There – over there."  And she indicated the opposite wall of the room.  "Try the third shelf down.  There are some framed photos."  She did not offer to get up.

            Lennie did get up, and he compared their photo with a couple in the frames.  He nodded at Ed, who heaved a sigh.

            "Mrs. Carswell, I'm afraid we have some bad news for you," Ed began.  "Your husband was found dead on Monday morning."

            Her eyes widened, but she didn't otherwise move.  "Blake?  In the Cascades?"

            "No, ma'am, right here in New York."

            "But. . .   But how could that be?"

            "That's what we were hoping you could help us find out.  Did you actually see him leave to go on his trip?"

            Something caught Lennie's eye on the desk.  It was only partially visible under a file folder, but he was sure it was another one of the "Urban Experience" brochures.  It was hard for him to resist sliding it into full view, but he didn't want it to become the 4,607,532nd piece of evidence that he'd had thrown out by a judge.

            Mrs. Carswell was telling Ed that she really couldn't remember if she had seen her husband leave on his trip.

            _She can't remember whether or not she saw her husband leave on a cross-country trip? _he wondered_._  His own two marriages had been bad, but he was quite sure that either of his wives would remember something like that.  

            Lennie asked, "Mrs. Carswell, do you suppose we could get a look at where Mr. Carswell keeps his luggage?"

            Her eyes widened even more than when Ed had told her Carswell was dead.  "His luggage?  Whatever for?"

            "Well, if you can't say for sure that he left on that trip, how do you or we know if he really did leave?"

            "Oh, that is absurd.  Where else would he be?"

            "The fact, Mrs. Carswell, is that he is in the morgue," Ed pointed out.

            "Oh, yes, that's right – you told me that, didn't you?"

            Ed looked at the woman very carefully.  "Ma'am, are you okay?  Forgive me, but I have to say that you are not reacting very appropriately."

            She shrugged.  "Who's to say what is appropriate, Detective?  In your line of work, don't you find that people have various ways of reacting to sad news and grief?"

            "Yes, ma'am, that is true, but it's very seldom that we come across wives who don't know where their husbands are for days at a time."

            Again she shrugged.  "Blake and I are independent people.  I didn't keep up with him every second.  Now, if you gentlemen are done, I'd appreciate it if you would leave me alone now.  I expect that I will have to begin making some arrangements."

            Not wanting to tip his hand, Lennie carefully considered his next question.  Just testing the water, he asked, "Well, if you didn't see him leave on this trip, or don't remember if you did or not, is it possible that someone on your staff might have?  Maybe helped him pack?  Drove him to the airport?"

            "I really have no idea."

            "We're going to need to talk to them," Ed told her.

            "That really would be utterly tiresome, Detective.  I told you that I've just had a gathering here.  Everyone is busy cleaning up."

            "Ma'am, I'm afraid you really don't understand.  You see, your husband is the victim of. . . "

            "No, that's okay, Detective Green," Lennie interrupted him.  "Mrs. Carswell has a lot to deal with here.  We can come back at some more convenient time if it's necessary."

            "Well, thank you," said Mrs. Carswell.  "Good-bye."

            When they were back in the elevator, Ed burst out, "Lennie, what in the hell was that, man?  You finally losin' it?  That woman is. . . "

            "I know.  Ed, I think I saw an 'Urban Experience' brochure on her desk."

            "Whoa, Lennie!  Are you sure?"

            "About 95% sure.  We've got a lot of checking to do.  We're going to need to look at the exhibit guest list and the Carswell's LUDs – see if anyone ever dialed the number on the brochure.  And we need to look for anything that proves one way or the other that Carswell actually ever even planned a trip to the Cascades."

            It took them most of the rest of the day to track down these details, but the answers were yes, yes, and no.  In fact, despite her grief at her boss' passing, Carswell's secretary nearly doubled over in laughter at the notion of her boss involved in any sort of wilderness survival or white water rafting.

            "You've got to understand, Detectives, that he not only wasn't at all the type for that sort of thing, but with his heart condition. . . "

            "He had a heart condition?" asked Ed.

            "Yes.  It wasn't a secret.  He was looking at some surgery in the long term, but he wasn't quite yet a candidate for it.  He was supposed to take it easy on physical activity.  But even if he were in perfect health, Mr. Carswell in a _tent_?  You just don't know how funny that is.  He was a wonderful man, but his idea of roughing it was Atelier rather than Le Cirque"

            "So, if you knew that there was no way he'd be on a wilderness holiday, just where did you think he's been all these days?" 

            "Mrs. Carswell called me last week and told me that he had had to take a sudden trip out of town.  Since I didn't hear from him, I figured it was a family emergency, and I didn't pry – just did the best I could to field things here in the office."

            "We're going to need a copy of Mr. Carswell's schedule for the last three weeks," Ed told her.

            "Certainly."

            Back on the street, Lennie said, "This isn't adding up at all."

            "The wife was lying through her teeth.  I think we need to chat a little further with her – this time at our place."

            "Yeah, but it's late.  Let's put a watch on her for now and deliver that invitation in person tomorrow morning.  I like to save the really fun stuff for when I'm fresh."

            Ed agreed that they probably had made enough progress for one day, and Lennie went home.  He'd really intended to go to his own apartment, but he wound up at Judith's and couldn't exactly figure out why.  Finally, he admitted to himself that he already was missing her.  He dialed her mother's number.

            "Oh, it's you," Mrs. Schoenberg greeted him frostily.  "I was beginning to think you really cared about Judith, Leonard.  How could you do this to her?"

            He sighed and guessed he was back to Square One with the mom.  He could hear Judith's voice in the background.  ". . .not his fault. . .   . . .explained to you. . .  . . . me the phone. . .   . . .please. . ."  Finally Judith came on the line.

            "Lennie.  How's it going?"

            "Somewhat better than it sounds like it's going there.  Maybe I gave you a bum steer about that going with the truth thing."

            "Oh, we couldn't have done anything else," she sighed.  "She'll settle down – eventually.  Have you made any progress?"

            "Yeah, some.  We're not there yet but maybe closer."

            "And you're not going to tell me any more than that, are you?"

            "Sorry, no.  Look, you suppose I could come over there for a little while?  It's strange being home and not seeing you."

            "I'd love for you to, but you really don't need to put up with what you'd have to hear here right now.  Just get your rest, and concentrate on the case like you said." 

            He knew she was right.  He said goodnight and promised to call again tomorrow.  _Damn you to hell, Coco Rapina, _he thought_._  Hardly ever did he take cases personally, but this one was screwing with his life, and he wanted it over.

            Bringing Elaine Carswell in was a predictable headache.  Why did so many of the very wealthy think that rules didn't apply to them?  After they danced that whole dance with her and finally had her in the IR, Lennie asked her again if she wanted a lawyer.  She had threatened several times to call one but hadn't followed through on it.  He'd rather she did than make up some story later about how they had prevented her from doing so.

            "Why would I?" she asked, every word clinking like an ice cube on glass.  "You tell me I am here 'voluntarily.'  Why don't we maintain that fiction for a while?"

            "Mrs. Carswell, you do understand why you're here, don't you?" asked Ed.  "You know why we have to talk to you again?"

            "I know what you said, but, really, I fail to see why we couldn't have this conversation at my home.  This hardly is the sort of place that I. . . "

            "You see, people who don't lie to us get to stay on their own turf," Lennie explained to her, "But you don't play it straight and you wind up coming over to play at our house."

            She just glared at him.

            Ed sighed.  "Why the cock and bull story about your husband being in the Cascades?"

            "I told you what my husband told me.  If he lied to me, that's not my fault."

            Lennie dropped his head and smiled.  Crooked rich people had not only the propensity to be pains in the ass but fortunately also tended to be very stupid.  He practically could get a meter maid off the street to handle this one and go take himself a three-hour lunch.

            "You know, Mrs. Carswell," he said, "I'm like a kid in a candy store with you.  I don't even know where to start."

            "I have no idea what you're talking about."

            "Why didn't you tell your husband's secretary that he was going to the Cascades?"

            "It's none of her business where he goes."

            "And no one saw him leave?"

            "Blake's a private person.  He doesn't announce his every move."

            "And there's no credit card record of payment to a travel agent or airline?"

            "I know nothing of such details.  As I said, if he was lying to me, it's hardly my fault."

            "Okay, Mrs. Carswell, here's a great big one," said Ed.  "Your husband had a heart condition that restricted physical activity, and you just let him go off on a wilderness adventure?"

            "When Blake took a notion in his head, there was no talking him out of it."

            "Even if it might kill him?"

            "I'm not his mother."

            Lennie briefly considered asking the woman on what planet she had been born, but he decided just to make short work of it.  "How'd you enjoy 'Urban Experience,' Mrs. Carswell?"

            "I beg your pardon?"

            He placed a brochure from the exhibit on the table in front of her.

            "Oh, um, yes – the exhibit at the Lovell Gallery.  I attend so many."

            "Mrs. Carswell, are you sure that there isn't something you want to tell us?  Now would be a very good time."

            The woman put her head in hands.  Her shoulders heaved slightly once or twice.  Lennie tried to figure out what was going on with her.

            When she looked at them again, she was dry-eyed and composed.  "All right, Detectives.  I was trying to spare my husband's memory, but if you know this much, I might as well tell you the rest."

            _So pat, _thought Lennie_.  What bullshit are we going to hear next?_

            "The floor's all yours," Ed urged.

            "Well, when we attended that exhibit, it really fired my husband's imagination.  He got to thinking about all the things he no longer could do because of his heart condition."

            _Like the whitewater rafting the secretary told us he wouldn't be caught. . .  Well, strike that last part, but, still. . . _  And Lennie just let her go on and see how deep a hole she could dig herself.

            "And he. . .   Well, he decided that he wanted to prove something to himself."

            "By getting himself kidnapped?"  Ed asked.  "Is that what you're telling us?"

            "Yes.  If you've put this brochure in front of me, you know what it says.  Testing the subjects' limits?  Well, Blake was just so devastated about his medical condition that he wanted to prove to himself that he was still a man.  You understand?"

            Lennie and Ed glanced unbelievingly at each other.  "So, why the Cascades story?" Ed finally asked,

            "If. . .   Well, if he weren't going to come home, that's what he would have wanted people to think."

            Lennie asked his Higher Power for strength.  "What he would have wanted people to think instead of what?"

            "Instead of that he engaged this artist's services."

            "So," asked Ed, "He made arrangements to have himself kidnapped?"

            "Yes, I told you – that is correct."

            "Okay, Mrs. Carswell, let me get this all straight. . . "  Lennie, who had been standing, took a seat at the table opposite the woman.  "You know your husband has called this artist, engaged his services, and it's five or six days later, and you're not getting worried that you haven't heard from him?"

            "Detective, this artist is in very high demand, and, if you will excuse me for stating the obvious, Blake and I are in a position to afford the very best.  He didn't tell me the details, but I naturally assumed that he would contract for the top-of-the-line abduction with all the flourishes.  So, I supposed that he was off having the time of his life.  Why would I be worried?  Apparently something did go wrong, but I had no way of knowing about it."

            Lennie once again speculated on the possible extraterrestrial origins of the woman across the table from him.  _Take it, Ed, _he mentally willed his partner_._

            "So, Mrs. Carswell, you definitely are telling us that your husband contracted with this abduction artist?" Ed asked.

            "For the third time, that is correct.  I just didn't think. . .  Well, I'm sure that if that is what caused Blake's death he wouldn't have wanted it in his obituary.  So, instead I told you about his dream of the mountains and rivers adventures.  That's all I can tell you.  May I go now?"

            "There's just one more little thing," said Ed.  "Since you're the grieving widow here and all, we've been trying to give you every possible chance, but do you know about a little investigative tool we have called LUDs?"

            The woman very nearly yawned.  "No, Detective, I have very little knowledge of your work, and, I assure you, far less interest."

            Lennie broke in.  "LUDs, Mrs. Carswell, tell us what phone calls are made from what number to what number and when.  And we're wondering why two calls were made from your home number to the one on the brochure during times people can place your husband elsewhere."

            "I would suppose your records are in error."

            "They're not," Ed told her.  "I think you have a whole lot more explaining to do."

            Elaine Carswell was silent for a moment and then said, "I would like to call my attorney now."

            Outside the IR, Lennie asked Van Buren, "Arrest her now or later?"

            "Not until she gets her lawyer and we talk to Abbie.  I'll call her and stall Carswell and her lawyer just as long as I can.  Why don't you guys use that time to see what you can turn up as far as a motive?  Start with Mr. Carswell's will and follow the money – it's usually the quickest route."

            Lennie and Ed did so and were not surprised to find out that except for a few insignificant bequests, Elaine Carswell was going to get everything.

            "Well, that was easy enough," said Lennie, "But now I'm wondering why it wasn't enough for her to spend it while he was still around.  Didn't look to me like he was depriving her in any way."

            "Unless she wanted to spend it with someone else."

            "A boyfriend!"

            "I'd put money on it, Lennie.  Okay, so who knows about women's boyfriends?"

            "Their girlfriends – learned that one from Van Buren.  Let's go back and talk to that doorman about who was at that tea party yesterday."

            Again, it was almost too easy.  They got several names of women right in the neighborhood, and fortunately the idle rich loved to gossip as much if not more than the working class.  From three women all too happy to dish, they got the same name – Dan Bianski, a young soap opera heartthrob and thus someone who should be easy enough to find.

            "You know, Lennie, Carswell might be going at it hot and heavy with this Biansky, but I doubt that she'd bring him in on her scheme.  He's an idiot."

            "You a closet soap fan, Ed?"

            "No, but I did see him on _Celebrity Jeopardy_.  To say he has air for brains would be slandering the good name of air."

            "Still, let's check with the soap production company."

            They did and learned that Dan Biansky was four weeks into a six-week leave of absence to do a film on the West Coast.

            "So, that means he was gone before the exhibit opened.  You could be right, Ed – maybe she didn't see any reason to get him involved and then just present him with her lovely self. . . "

            ". . . and her husband's lovely money. . . "

            ". . . when he gets back."

            "Think it's enough for motive?"

            "It's enough to take to Carmichael."

            Van Buren blinked in surprise to see them back so soon.  "You guys didn't give up that fast, did you?"

            "Give up?  Lieu, I am deeply offended by your underestimation of our investigative abilities.  You send us out for motive, and we bring home motive."

            "It's not a pizza, Lennie.  This better be good."

            "How'd you go for she gets everything and she's been doing the horizontal tango with a TV star practically half her age?"

            "Wow.  I'd have to say that's pretty good."

            "Yeah – well, just remember it come evaluation time.  So, did Carswell's lawyer show?"

            "He's with her right now, and Abbie should be here anytime."

            "This is all very good work, gentlemen," the ADA told them when they laid everything out for her, "But let's not lose sight of our main goal here."

            "Coco Rapina," sighed Lennie.  "I know – believe me, I know."

            "Yes, and his crew.  Do you think she can give him to us?"

            "It's possible," said Ed.  "She made her calls to him since he vacated the last address Tony gave us.  But what are you going to have to give her?  I'd hate to see this lady walk.  She's got an iceberg where a heart should be."

            "That's what I want to think about very carefully.  And I'm going to have to talk to Jack.  So, let's leave it this way.  If, when she and her lawyer finish, she wants to tell us anything helpful, fine – but don't let on yet how much we want Rapina.  If she doesn't say anything helpful, there's no reason not to arrest her.  It's too late for her to be arraigned today, and a night on Rikers might encourage a more cooperative spirit."

            "Gotcha, Counselor."

            Just then, Carswell's lawyer emerged and informed them that his client was ready "to clear up this misunderstanding."

            Lennie, Ed, Van Buren, and Abbie exchanged "This-oughta-be-good" looks.

            Back in the IR, Ed said, "Mrs. Carswell, we understand you have something more to tell us."

            "Well, yes, you didn't quite give me the chance before, but. . . "

            _Yeah, yeah, yeah, _thought Lennie_, because it was you who stopped the conversation by asking for a lawyer._

            ". . . I did make those calls because I wanted to ensure my husband's safety during the abduction experience."

            "But who made the original deal for the abduction?" asked Lennie.

            "Oh, really, Detective – this is becoming so incredibly boring.  I think this must be at least the fourth time I've told you that that was my husband."

            "And there are no records of any phone calls to the artist from any phone your husband used – why?" Ed wanted to know.

            "I assume it is your job to discover that sort of thing, Detective.  If it is any help to you, you might consider that he might have used a pay phone."

            Both Lennie and Ed barely managed to suppress smiles.  "A pay phone?  One of those dirty things used by the great unwashed?" asked Lennie.  "How many of your husband's friends and associates do you suppose we can find to tell us they've ever seen Blake Carswell use a pay phone?"

            She shrugged.  "I have no idea.  This is all I can tell you."

            "And now that this matter has been cleared up," said her lawyer, "I assume that Mrs. Carswell is free to. . . "

            Lennie went to the woman and grasped her shoulders.  "Stand up, please, Mrs. Carswell."

            Ed intoned, "Elaine Carswell, you are under arrest for the murder of Blake Carswell.  You have the right to remain. . . "

            That evening when Lennie phoned Judith at her mother's place, he was surprised and concerned to hear her answer.  "Judith, why are you answering the phone?  I thought we agreed. . . "

            "It's okay, Lennie.  After what you had to hear last night, I ordered caller-ID for her.  If the call is from one of our numbers, I'll pick it up.  If not, I'll let Mother get it."

            "Okay – good idea.  So, how are you doing over there?"

            "Oh, not too bad.  Doing some drawing, a little reading, watching the soaps with Mother – okay, but pretty boring."

            "The soaps?  She watch one called _The Seeking Heart_?"

            "Yes – actually, she loves it.  Why would you ask?"

            "It came up today.  You see a guy on there named Dan Bianski – plays a character named Warren?"

            "I didn't know the actor's name but, yes, I saw a character named Warren.  But it looked to me like he's being written out.  Going to look for his lost brother in Antarctica or some such nonsense.  Mother's all upset about it because he's her favorite, and she's afraid he's going to get killed."

            "Would you date him?"

            "Date him?  Are you crazy?  He's a pretty boy, but he's probably young enough to be my son.  Why are you asking such a bizarre question?"

            "Was just wondering about something we found out today.  And tell your mother not to worry.  I have some inside info – Warren will be back in a few weeks."

            "I'm sure she'll appreciate that, but it leads me to ask – have you and Ed been doing anything other than watching soap operas?  Like anything to do with clearing this case so that I can come home?"

            "Actually, I'm sure you'll hear about this tomorrow, but we arrested the victim's wife."

            "His wife?  Really?  What about Rapina?"

            "We're not quite there yet."

            Judith sighed.  "Soon, Lennie?"

            "It could be.  Just wish us the same luck we had today, and it could be soon."

            "You know I do.  Lennie?"

            "Yeah?"

            "I don't want to be all clingy or anything, but I, um. . .  I mean, I. . . "

            "I miss you, too, Judith."

            He heard her draw her breath in sharply.  "You do?" she asked dubiously.

            "Well, think about it – can you remember the last time we didn't see each other for two days, even it was only for a few minutes?"

            "I. . .  I guess that's true.  I just didn't know you were keeping track."

            "I wasn't – not until this happened."

            "Well, um, it would be really great to get back to normal, wouldn't it?"

            He sighed.  "We're doing our damnedest.  You just stay put, and be careful."

            They said goodnight, and Lennie slept better than he had in the last three nights.  In the morning, just as he was about to leave for the precinct, Judith's phone rang.  He considered letting the machine get it, but on an impulse he picked it up.  A nervous girl's voice was on the line, asking for Judith.  Lennie vaguely recognized it as belonging to Sadie, a quiet young woman who was Judith's part-time assistant and an art student at Manhattan College.  

            "Sadie?  This is Lennie.  We've met, remember?  Do you have a message for Judith?"

            "Well. . .   Well, not a message exactly.  It's just that a couple of men have been calling for her here."

            "A couple men?  Why do you say a 'couple' men?"

            "The voices.  The voices weren't the same.  A couple had accents."

            "Sadie, this is kind of important.  Can you tell me everything you remember about these calls?"

            "Let's see. . .   I wrote the first one down here on her calendar the day before yesterday.  It was at about 10:45."

            "What'd he say?"

            "Just that he needed to talk to Judith.  I figured she was just late coming in, so I told him that."

            "And then?"

            "Later in the day, at about 1:30 another man called and said the same thing.  By that time, Mr. Kirkpatrick had told me that Judith wouldn't be in for 'a while.'  I didn't know exactly what that meant, but it's what I passed along."

            "Were there any more calls?"

            "Yes.  One yesterday.  And then one just now, which is why I'm trying to call her now.  These men sound like it's really important to get in touch with Judith, but they wouldn't leave messages."  

            "Sadie, look, if you get any more calls like this, tell them that Judith has been briefly out of town on a project but that you expect her back almost any time.  Can you do that?  As I said, this is very important."

            "Well, yeah, sure," she said uncertainly, "But what if they ask me any other questions?"

            "That's all you know.  Okay?"

            "Sure.  That's what I'll say.  Is Judith okay?"

            "Judith is fine.  Thank you very much, Sadie."

            When he ended that call, Lennie dialed the precinct and left an order with the desk sergeant for a stat order of the gallery's LUDs.  Likely the calls were coming from that damned unlisted cell of Rapina's, but there still was a chance that they might not be.

            Then he dialed Abbie Carmichael who wasn't in yet, but he asked for and spoke to Jack McCoy who was.  _Probably been there all night, _Lennie thought_._  "Jack, what's the chance of holding off on that arraignment, or at least making sure that it doesn't get into the papers?"

            "Slim to none, Lennie – unless you can give me some very good reason."

            "We can't tip Rapina that we're that close to him."  And Lennie explained the phone calls to Judith.  "There's a chance that Mrs. Carswell can give us his present location."

            "That might involve giving her a deal we don't want to."

            "Think about it, Jack.  You can get one broad who offed her hubby, or you can get Rapina and stop this shit from happening again."

            McCoy didn't speak for a moment.  "Okay, Detective, I'll do what I can to delay the arraignment.  You and your partner meet Abbie at Rikers and have another go at Mrs. Carswell.  I'll authorize Abbie to offer her consideration in exchange for any information that might pan out."

            "Thanks, Counselor."  

            "I know you've been in this one for the long haul, Lennie.  I hope it will work out."

            Two and a half hours later, Lennie and Ed were with Abbie, Mrs. Carswell, and her lawyer in a conference room at Rikers.  Mrs. Carswell looked a lot worse for wear for the night she had spent.  

            "Look, Mr. Mackey," Abbie began, "We're prepared to be generous with your 

client, but she's going to have to give us some more solid information than she did yesterday."

            "We don't have any idea to what you might be referring, Miss Carmichael, and as for my client's arraignment being delayed, we are going to file a very strong. . . "

            "Save it, Mr. Mackey," Abbie told him.  "It's truly in Mrs. Carswell's best interest that we don't arraign her yet.  We want to know everything about the deal she made as to her husband's abduction."

            "She's told you. . . "

            Lennie was losing whatever little patience he had left.  "We know it was you who set this up.  What we want to know now is did you ever meet with Coco Rapina?"

            Mrs. Carswell and her lawyer conferred in whispers.

            "What could we expect if Mrs. Carswell were to give you that information?"

            Lennie drew in his breath sharply.  _Then she did meet with him.  If we can find out about it quickly enough, maybe he'll still be there._

            "I can tell you what you can expect, Mr. Mackey, if she doesn't," said Abbie.  "What you can expect is that we'll proceed with what we have, and that includes layers of lies, knowledge of her husband's heart condition, phone calls to the abduction service, and one whopping motive.  Sounds pretty good to me for at least Murder Two."

            The woman and her lawyer conferred again, this time at some greater length.  In frustration, Lennie banged his hand on the back of the chair where he was standing.

            Finally, the lawyer said, "Suppose Mrs. Carswell were to give you an address where you might be able to find Mr. Rapina if he were still available there?"

            "We'll take that information and get back to you," answered Abbie.  "What you can expect is that your client won't be in any worse shape."

            "And that's all we're getting?"

            "For now, that's all you're getting," Abbie said firmly.

            The attorney sighed.  "Go ahead, Elaine.  All it can do is help you."

            "All right.  I did meet with Mr. Rapina.  Is that all?  May I leave here now?"

            Lennie flipped open his notepad and thrust a pen at her.  "Where?  Write it down!"

            She wrote out an address in Soho, and Lennie snatched up the pad.

            "Get us a warrant, Counselor?"

            "You bet.  You guys go on ahead, and it'll be waiting for you.  And good luck."

                                                                                                Go to Chapter Five --


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

            In the car, they worked their way through the Queens traffic to the address that hadn't been one on Tony's list.  

            "You think his studio will still be there, Lennie?  Or do you suppose it's already 'floated' away somewhere?"

            "All I know is what I'm hoping."

            Lennie's beeper sounded just as Ed was turning west on 495.  "Ed, it's Judith.  I doubt she's calling just to say 'hello.'"

            "Here – use my cell."

            He punched in the number, and Mrs. Shoenberg answered on the first ring.

            "Leonard?  Yes, Judith needs to talk with you right away."

            "Lennie?  You didn't just try to call from my place, did you?"

            "No. . . "

            "Then someone is there.  Lennie, I'm scared."

            "Did you pick it up?"

            "No, I almost did but then figured it was too late for you to be calling from there."

            "Good – good.  Judith, sit tight.  Keep having your mother answer the phone, but don't anyone answer the door.  I'll be back in touch from this number."

            "Lennie, be careful!"

            "Ed!  Judith's good-for-nothing doorman may just have given us a break!  I'm going to call for some uniforms to get over to her place!  Let's get on to Rapina's!"

            The warrant did indeed beat them there, and Ed and Lennie scouted out the building.  The address they had indicated that Rapina's place was the loft, and they thought it best to request backup before going in.

            The door was answered by a burly bearded man in a black turtleneck and a leather coat who looked vaguely familiar to Lennie.  

            "Mr. Rapina, he does not see visitors not invited," he informed them menacingly in heavily accented English.

            "I think he'll make an exception in our case," said Ed, flashing his badge and indicating for the two uniforms to go in.

            Another leather-coated figure, practically a twin of the first, appeared in the doorway and said, "Rapina, he not here."

            "Curious paradox," said Lennie.  "Someone who won't see us isn't in anyway.  And you know what?  I'm not very interested in the explanation."

            The two leather coats looked at each other uneasily and then stood away.  And then Lennie remembered that the perps on the videotapes usually were dressed more or less like these two guys.  

            As the detectives and uniforms entered, Ed closed the door behind them, and said to the two thugs, "Don't you gentlemen even think about going anywhere."

            Meanwhile, Lennie looked around the loft – a typical artist's studio but with a lot of electronic equipment strewn here and there.  In a far corner, a man was on his hands and knees alternately hammering, stapling, and sewing things on to a large black piece of canvas.  

            Lennie strode over to him and asked, "Coco Rapina?"

            The man did not look up from what he was doing but said, "If you know enough to have found your way here, you must know who I am."

            "Mr. Rapina, stand up, please."

            "I really can't be bothered right now."

            Lennie stepped across the black canvas and pulled the man to his feet.  It wasn't hard.  He was very slight, and he had dark olive skin, a goatee, and wild curly hair.

            "Please stop!  Can't you see you are messing. . . "

            "Mr. Rapina, we have a warrant for your arrest and to search these premises."

            "That is absolutely ridiculous," protested Rapina, trying to shake himself loose from Lennie's grip, but the cuffs already were on him.  "What could you possibly think I have done?"

            "How does murdering one Mr. Blake Carswell sound to you?  You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to. . . "

            "That is absolutely preposterous!" spluttered Rapina.  "Mr. Carswell is perfectly fine."

            "Yeah, everyone on a slab in the morgue is perfectly fine.  Maybe you oughta try it sometime.  You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense."

            "So, you do. . . did know Mr. Carswell, correct?" asked Ed.

            Rapina opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it.  All he would say was, "I want an attorney."

            "Fine!" snapped Lennie and asked one of the uniforms, "Anyone, anything else here we should know about?"

            The answer was negative, so he said, "Okay, bag all of the cameras, tapes, and photos, and seal this place up.  Mr. Rapina and his two friends will be spending some quality time with us at the station."

            "We?" protested one of the leather-coats.  "We do nothing."

            "You work for him, don't you?" asked Ed.

            "Not like that," said the other.  "We are in-de-pen-dent con-tractors."

            "That's right," the first one agreed vigorously.

            "Well, right now, you're going to be independently contracting yo' butts into a squad car.  Bring 'em along!"

            On the way to the 2-7, Ed received a call and told Lennie, "Two more leather-coats were picked up at Judith's.  They were going through her address book, but it doesn't look like they touched anything else."

            _Thank God for small favors, _thought Lennie_._  Her home being violated was going to be hard enough for her to handle.

            At the precinct, Van Buren asked, "Okay, what do we have?"

            "One Mr. Coco Rapina as per warrant, two associates caught in the act of breaking and entering – no problem there – and two others we've brought along for questioning.  Just hope we can hold them somehow because they look an awful lot like the abductors on those tapes," said Lennie.

            "Really?  Well, five in all!  Not a bad morning's work!  But didn't Tony indicate there were more of them?"

            "It's a start," pointed out Ed.  "Maybe the ones we have dead to rights will be willing to talk.  And if Rapina really didn't know that Carswell is dead, we might get the others out of him."

            "All possibilities," sighed Van Buren.  "Well, I'm going to get Abbie over here and see in what order she wants to tackle this mess.  We'll get Cordova to go through the cameras and tapes and stuff and see if she can spot Mr. Carswell.  And make sure our Mr. Rapina is comfortable until his lawyer arrives."

            Lennie couldn't wait to get into the IR with Rapina, but he had to be patient until the artist's lawyer arrived.  They conferred for what seemed like a very long time, and then the lawyer, a Ms. Parnell said that her client "might" be willing to answer "some" of their questions as they pertained to the matter of Mr. Blake Carswell.  _Well, that's really big of him, _thought Lennie_._

            Rapina was small and nervous, and didn't look at all like someone who could cause the kind of trouble he had.

            "Let's make this as short and sweet as possible," said Lennie, "Because, frankly, Counselor, I'm not much liking sharing the air with your client."

            "There's no need to get personal, Detective," the young woman snapped.

            "And you have no idea how personal your client already has made it.  Now what we want to know is did he sell his services to Mr. Blake Carswell?"

            Ms. Parnell nodded at Rapina, and he said, "No, I did not."

            "But back at your studio, you told us he was fine," said Ed.  "You recognized the name."

            The artist and his lawyer looked at each other for a long moment.  Finally, she said, "The question was did Mr. Rapina contract with Mr. Carswell.  He told you he did not."

            "Okay, Coco, let's try it this way," said Ed.  "Suppose you tell us everything you know about Blake Carswell."

            Ms. Parnell snorted.  "You think I'm going to let my client answer an open-ended question like that?  If you've got something specific you want to know, ask it.  Otherwise, we're all wasting our time."

            "You wanna play Twenty Questions?  Fine!" barked Lennie.  "Did you ever meet Mr. Carswell?"

            "No."

            "Mrs. Carswell?"

            "Yes."

            "And did she contract for your services?"

            "Yes."

            "To kidnap her husband?"

            "To abduct her husband."

            "Did Mr. Carswell ever consent to this abduction?"

            Rapina glanced at Ms. Parnell who nodded slightly and said, "It's best."

            "As far as I know, not explicitly."

            "'Not explicitly?'  What the hell does that mean?" asked Ed.

            Rapina dropped his eyes and said nothing.  _A person very guilty of something, _thought Lennie_._

            "Look, Rapina, I'm watching you and your lawyer here, and it looks to me like she's explained to you that it's in your best interest to cooperate."  Lennie glanced at Ms. Parnell who didn't confirm that but didn't object either.  "It also looks to me," Lennie continued, "Like maybe you did something you're not so proud of.  Believe me, you're going to feel a lot better if you tell us about it now and have the chance to work something out with the DA rather than to have to tell a jury about it later."

            The lawyer looked as if she'd rather eat ground glass than agree but said, "The detective is correct, Mr. Rapina."

            Little by little, the story emerged.  Shortly after the "Urban Experience" opening, Elaine Carswell contacted Coco Rapina and asked to meet with him.  At his studio, she gave him a long song and dance about how very much she and her husband enjoyed the show but that Mr. Carswell was "wistful" that such an experience had to be "so contrived."  Her grand idea was that she would arrange an abduction for him as a surprise.

            "Naturally, I refused," said Rapina.

            "'Naturally?'  Why naturally?" asked Ed.  "I thought that was your whole deal."

            "Not to contract with third parties, Detective.  That would be. . .   Well, that could. . . "

            "What?" asked Lennie.

            "Well, get me into trouble."  And he glanced ruefully around the shabby IR.

            "It never occurred to you that contracting even with a second party for this sort of thing could get you into trouble?" Lennie wondered unbelievingly.

            Rapina shrugged.  "I wasn't breaking any laws.  I checked.  And it was a win-win situation.  I found the raw material of my art, and my clients found the excitement they craved."

            "Yeah, well, we heard all that crap from your friend Tony," said Lennie, not wanting to rehash it.  "Let's get back to you and Mrs. Carswell.  I assume she talked you into it?"

            "Eventually, yes."

            "What'd she do – double your fee?"

            "She offered, but I still said 'no.'"

            "So, what did do the trick?"

            Rapina at least had the grace to look embarrassed.  "She tripled it."

            "Okay, very important," said Ed.  "Did she ever mention to you about any medical condition her husband had."

            "No, she did not."

            "Did you bother to ask?"

            "Actually, I did.  We ask all our clients that, specifically things such as do they have a bad knee or back – something to which we would want to avoid injury if possible during the abduction."

            "So, what exactly did she tell you when you asked about her husband's health?" asked Lennie.

            "That it was perfect and the experience should be as realistic as possible."

            "And you believed her?"

            "I believed this was something she very much wanted to give her husband."

            "So, what did she contract for exactly?"

            "That was sort of odd, actually.  For as much as she was spending, we could have arranged something much more elaborate, but she maintained that he would be happy with a simple off the street snatch and a three-day Beirut-style hostage ordeal."

            Lennie and Ed just stared at each other, and even the attorney looked uncomfortable.

            "So, man, you were gonna, like, keep this guy bound and gagged for three days?  Is that what you're telling us?" Ed asked finally.

            "Well, we'd give him water, a little food, of course.  It's standard.  All in the book."

            "Book?  What book?"

            "Well, I had gotten so busy with my work – the art – that I couldn't be bothered for every routine abduction.  I wrote it all out so my, um, assistants could carry out the arrangements on their own.  Of course, some clients prefer to customize their experiences, in which case I have to become more closely involved.  But Mrs. Carswell just chose a scenario straight out of the book."

            "So, what happened to Mr. Carswell?" Lennie asked.

            "Apparently you know more about that than I.  I had no idea he was dead."

            "What did you think happened to him?"

            "I assumed everything went according to plan.  He was in the completed column, and Mrs. Carswell didn't seem much interested in an artistic rendering of the event although I told her that with what she was paying I would throw that in for free.  She said she'd get back to me on that."

            "Hold it, hold it, hold it," said Ed.  "Back up to 'the completed column.'  What's that?"

            "Finished, done, inactive.  I never heard of any problem, so I figured all went well."

            "So, Mrs. Carswell never called you to find out about her husband?"

            "No."

            "Okay, Rapina, then I guess this is the Great Big Question – which ones of your little leather-coated elves did the Carswell job?"

            "I, um, couldn't say."

            "It's not in your famous book?"

            "Well, once it would have been, but since the gallery opening. . .   Well, quite honestly, we've been so busy that we've gotten rather sloppy about record keeping."

            "I think that Mr. Rapina has told you gentleman all he knows about this Carswell case.  I assume you are going to tell the ADA that he has cooperated fully?" asked Ms. Parnell.

            "Not until we have a complete list of everyone who's ever been employed in this little enterprise," Ed told her.

            Ms. Parnell glanced at her client who looked very scared.  He didn't say anything at all.  "I'll see what can be done about that," she said.  "Perhaps you better leave us alone now."

            "Not so fast, Counselor," said Lennie.  "There's another crime we want to question him about – a breaking and entering."

            "A breaking and entering?" asked Rapina, puzzled.  "I don't think we've done one of those for the longest time.  And even then we were always careful to arrange things in advance so that it wouldn't be a real breaking and entering."

            "Oh, this was plenty real, and it occurred just this morning."

            "Well, then it couldn't have been related to my work.  I have not made arrangements for any such experience."

            "And what if it turns out that the thugs who did it work for you?"

            "I would have to assume that they were engaged in some independent activity."

            "So, it would all be just a coincidence, would it?"

            Rapina held out his hands and shrugged.

            "Actually, quite a coincidence that the victim is an employee of the Lovell Gallery, wouldn't you say?"

            "Okay, that's enough," said Ms. Parnell, firmly.  "That's a matter that we're going to have to take up at another time after my client and I have had a chance to confer.  Now, what about the ADA?"

            "Oh, I imagine you're going to be talking to her sooner than you think," said Lennie.  "Come on, Ed – I need some air."

            Outside the IR Lennie and Ed found Van Buren and Abbie.  For a long moment, they all just looked at each other.

            "Did you get all of that, Abbie?" Ed finally asked.

            "Enough.  I've never heard anything like it."

            "Well, what's he guilty of?" asked Lennie.

            "You've got me there.  Maybe Man Two – reckless endangerment – but even that might be a stretch.  You're going to have to find the guys that actually handled Carswell.  Can you do that?" 

            Lennie sighed and mentally prepared himself for long sessions with the leather coats.

            "Speaking of Mr. Rapina's associates. . . ," said Van Buren.  "Lennie and Ed, have you yet seen the two guys picked up at Miss Sandler's apartment?"

            Lennie shook his head.

            "Well, come look here.  I think you might find this most interesting."  She led them to another IR where those two leather coats were conferring with a lawyer.

            "See anything similar to the ones you brought in?"

            "Yeah," said Ed, "Apparently they all wear the same uniform.  So what?"

            "It's more than that.  Take a closer look."

            "Well, I'll be damned!" Lennie said.  "Their builds, hair, very similar features. . .   I thought the two at Rapina's place looked like brothers, but all four of them could be."

            "Or at least very closely related," said Van Buren.

            "You know," remembered Ed, "They did have a kind of an accent."

            "Some sort of ethnic crime family?" Lennie wondered aloud.

            "We'll have prints on the two from the breaking and entering soon enough.  Work that angle for now."

            It was a long and frustrating afternoon.  Lennie wished for some of the same luck they had had with Mrs. Carswell the previous morning, but it was not to be.  Rapina was too scared to name his employees, and none of the leather-coats would talk, not even the two who could get a deal on the breaking and entering charge.  The only thing they got was the name of one of that pair – Sergei Ivanov, with a couple of minor felonies on the record.  And Abbie got a material witness order for the two they picked up in Rapina's apartment.  _So, at least five of them are off the street for now, _thought Lennie_.  I guess that's something._  Through Tony's lawyer, they also were able to ascertain that he was sure that Rapina had more than four assistants – just how many more he couldn't say, but more than four.  And, yes, they tended to be quite similar in appearance.

            "Well, what do ya say, Lennie – knock off and leave these Ivanovs for tomorrow?" asked Ed.  "I'm really not thinking straight any more today."

            "Yeah.  Yeah, that sounds like a plan," Lennie said thoughtfully.  "I'm going up to see Judith."

            "That maybe would be a good idea after what happened this morning.  She's probably pretty freaked."

            Actually, Lennie was thinking that he was going to do a bit more than just see her.  He called to let her know that he was on his way, went and got her car, and plowed through some very heavy traffic.  On the way, he wondered if Mrs. Shoenberg had settled down at all or if that was going to be a battle.

            It was Mrs. Shoenberg who let him into her apartment.  He could tell she was less than pleased to see him, but at least she didn't rebuke him the way she had the other night on the phone.  She led him to the living room where Judith was waiting.  He immediately took her in his arms, and she clung to him tightly.

            "I will maybe, um, get us all a nice glass of tea, I think," said Mrs. Shoenberg, leaving them alone.

            "You okay, Judith?" he asked her quietly.

            She nodded.  "I am now.  I'm just so glad to see you."

            "Yeah, well, we've got to talk.  You, me, and your mother."

            "Come on – come over here and sit down.  You've got to tell me what's been going on.  You didn't say very much on the phone."

            "We've got Rapina, at least for now, but Abbie's not sure she can make the charge stick."

            "And his. . . "

            "Four of them, also under lock and key for the time being."

            "Do you think that's all of them?"

            He sighed.  "No, afraid not, honey.  We know it's not all of them."

            Judith's mother returned to the room with a tray of tea.

            "Thanks, Mrs. Shoenberg.  It's been a long day."

            "Mother, sit down with us here, please.  Lennie says we need to talk."

            "I certainly hope it's something about getting Judith out of this situation that you... "

            "Mother," Judith interrupted.  "You promised – you know you did."

            "Look, ladies, what I want to do is take both of you back to Judith's place where I can keep a better eye on you."

            Both women paled.  "Lennie, is that such a good idea?" Judith asked.

            "A better one than you staying here alone."

            "But they broke in there."

            "Yeah – see, I figure that's the point.  They likely won't try that again.  On the other hand, they do have this number.  These guys don't come across as real deep thinkers, but they may have enough brains to trace it, so I don't want you two alone here."

Judith considered this.  "I guess that does make sense, but, Lennie – my apartment?  Is it. . . "

"It's okay.  Really.  I was just there.  The super's already installed another lock."

            "But inside?  I mean. . . ?"

            "It's fine.  Apparently they were after only one thing.  All they touched was your phone and address book."

            Judith heaved a sigh of relief.  "I know I shouldn't be worrying about material things at a time like this, but. . . "

            "That's just natural, honey.  Everyone feels that way after a break-in.  I've seen plenty enough to know."

            "What about my place, Leonard, if we leave no one here?"

            "On the way in, I stopped by the local precinct and made sure that someone will be keeping an eye out."  Lennie didn't say so, but he was thinking that it might be a very good thing if some more of Rapina's gang did show up so that the local guys could nab them.  Because the two at Judith's were caught in the act, chances probably were slim that they had a chance to pass the Washington Heights number along, but maybe they did, or maybe they did since their arrest.  It was worth a shot.

            "Well, Mother," said Judith, "I guess we're going downtown."

            "Oh, I don't know," Mrs. Shoenberg said uncertainly.  "This is all so sudden.  How do we know it's the right thing to do?"

            "Look, Mother – Lennie's had a lot of experience with these things.  I'm sure what he's suggesting is best."

            Lennie actually had no intention of it's being a "suggestion" but didn't want to come on strong with the mother unless he had to.  Too much horrible history there.  The last thing any of them needed was for Mrs. Shoenberg to perceive this situation as being dragged from her home by police.

            Judith, Lennie was sure, was thinking pretty much the same thing.  He knew from what she had told him that it didn't take much for her mother to dredge up some very bad memories.

            "Mother, I'll help you pack a few things – okay?"

            "If. . .   If you really think. . . "

            Judith put her hand on her mother's and said firmly, "Yes, I really think it's what we need to do.  Lennie and his partner are making good progress on this case, so I'm sure it won't be for long.  You'll be able to come back here really soon."

            Although he knew he wasn't the mother's favorite person at the moment, Lennie decided it couldn't hurt to turn on a little charm.  "Come on, Mrs. Shoenberg.  You know this is going to be a real treat for me, don't you?"

            "And how is that, Leonard?"

            "Well, we're going to have to stop for dinner on the way, you know.  How often is it guy gets to walk into a restaurant with not just one but two gorgeous ladies?  You wouldn't deny me that now, would you?"

            The older woman regarded him dryly.  "I would suppose you are familiar with the term _chutzpah_?"

            "Familiar with it?" he laughed.  "Why, Mrs. S., I never leave home without it!"

            In spite of herself, Mrs. Shoenberg smiled.  "Well, I guess that you two have talked me into this.  I hope only that it will be the right thing."

            Once back at Judith's apartment after a pleasant enough dinner, things got a little awkward again.  While Mrs. Shoenberg was hanging up her clothes in Judith's guestroom, Lennie said, "She does realize, doesn't she, that I do, um, stay here?"

            "I, uh, couldn't say, Lennie.  I don't know what she does and doesn't realize about that.  She has her Old World ways, as you well know, and that's not something often discussed."

            "I'll sleep on the couch if you think that's best, but obviously I am not leaving."

            Judith sighed.  "No, you won't sleep on the couch.  I'm forty-nine years old, this is my home, and I already missed too. . .   Well, she's going to have to deal with it – that's all."

            "Whatever you say, babe.  I'm sure not gonna try to argue myself on to the couch.  But I will try to be discreet, okay?"

            "Thanks, Lennie," Judith smiled.  "But I am going to have to warn you that she's a night owl.  She'll be in here until all hours watching TV.  So, when you want to go to bed, just go.  With any luck she'll be paying more attention to Leno than to you."

"If you're sure it'll be okay?"

"It'll be fine.  You've got bigger things to worry about right now."  Judith looked around her living room.  "Gosh, it sure is good to be back home, even if those two creeps were in here.  And what I'm going to do is get some disinfectant on that phone."

            "Good."  He knew that was a common way robbery victims had of exorcising the violation – it would help her get over it.

            Sometime before 5am, Lennie's beeper went off.  Blearily he tried to focus his eyes on the readout.  When he saw the number, however, he was wide awake – the 3-4 in Washington Heights.  Could it be?  Was it possible the long shot turned out to be real?

            Judith was awake by then.  "Lennie, what is it?"

            "Just sit tight, hon – I gotta make a call."  He punched in the number from the beeper.  "Briscoe from the 2-7.  What have you got for me?"  

            He smiled at what he was hearing.  "No kidding?  That's great!  Don't let them out of your sight.  We'll be there soon.  Thanks!"

            "So? " asked Judith.  "What?"

            Lennie hesitated.  Force of habit dictated that he say nothing about an ongoing investigation, but this did involve her.  On the other hand, she might not handle well knowing that. . . 

            "Oh, for heaven's sake!"  She rolled over to the phone and punched *69.

            "Judith!" he protested.

            "Washington Heights!  Oh, my god, Lennie – you were right!"

            "Look, this is a good thing.  Really.  No harm was done, and it looks like we might have three more of them."

            "But if you hadn't. . . "

            "I did.  You're here.  You're safe.  Now don't worry about anything.  I've gotta get dressed and get with Ed."

            "You're leaving?"

            "Don't worry."  He was sure that under the circumstances he could get Van Buren to spring for an officer to keep an eye on the two women.

            At the 3-4, he and Ed found a very nervous detective named Nicholson.  "Look," she told them, "We shouldn't even be holding these guys.  They didn't do anything that we know of, and they won't tell us anything.  They were just in the vicinity and bore a general resemblance to the description you gave us."

            "Just let us get a look at them," Lennie told her.

            She led them to a holding cell where three more leather coats-regarded them sourly and threateningly.  

            "Oh, these are our guys, for sure," Ed told her.  "Thanks, Nicholson – we'll take it from here.  Lennie, I'm gonna call Carmichael."

            Ed excused himself to make the call, and Lennie regarded their latest acquisitions curiously.  As with the others he encountered yesterday, he had the same general impression of an air of stupidity mixed with cunning – always a dangerous combination.  They muttered to each other in what he guessed probably was Russian.

            "Okay, Lennie," said Ed, returning.  "Abbie says that if we're sure they're enough like the others, they're ours."

            "Okay, wrap 'em up.  They're going home with us."

            "Oh, and these fellas don't know just how much they're gonna enjoy themselves.  Abbie says that we're all having a little party – her, us, McCoy, and everyone involved up to their sorry asses in this abduction crap."

            As a 3-4 uniform was unlocking the holding cell, the leather-coats became excited.  "We go now?" asked one of them.

            "Yeah, you go now," said Lennie.  "With us."

            "No, no.  We cannot.  We go somewhere else."

            "See, that's not how it works," explained Ed.  "Your presence is requested elsewhere, and the DA gets pretty upset when you turn down his party invitation."

            "DA?  Ohhhhh." said the same one, as if he had just heard some very bad news.  "You mean Dee-strict Attorney?"

            "That's exactly who we mean!" Ed snapped.

            The leather-coats looked meaningfully at each other.  The one who had been speaking sighed and said, "Okay, we go, but first we have to stop.  Feed man.  Okay?"

            "Feed man?  What man?" asked Lennie, puzzled.  And then with a sick feeling it began to dawn on him exactly what was going on.

            "In gottic dungeon.  Time to feed him.  It's in book."

            "No, not dungeon man," protested another one of the three, speaking for the first time.  "Man at Gestapo.  Time we get man at Gestapo."

            "Indian lady," chimed in the third.  "Help Sergei with Indian lady today."

            "Not Indian lady!" said the first one and then turned almost apologetically to the open-mouthed cops.  "His English not good.  He mean lady captured by Indians."

            "What in the hell are these guys squabbling about?" Detective Nicholson asked Lennie and Ed.

            Lennie briefly put his hand across his eyes and sighed.  "I'd say that you really don't want to know, but I think that we're going to need your help – maybe a lot of it.  Ed, call Abbie back.  And Van Buren, too.  Tell them we're gonna be delayed – probably major delayed."

            Lennie couldn't remember when he'd had a longer or more bizarre day chasing around the city.  Twelve hours later, by his count they'd found and released the man chained to a brick wall in the mock-up "gothic dungeon," the man tied to a chair in a facsimile of a Gestapo headquarters, the couple who were spending their honeymoon "bonding," as they explained, by being bound and gagged on a filthy mattress in a terrorist-style kidnapping, a man held on a "Death Row," the man hanging naked upside down in the court of Catherine the Great, and a woman in a S&M setting he didn't even want to think about ever again.  And that's not to mention having to call the Long Island cops to go find a guy being held for some reason Lennie never could figure out in a snowbound cabin and having to explain to a very disappointed lady in Central Park why she would not be being captured by Indians that day – and, no, they couldn't refund her money.

            "But where'd they get the snow?" wondered Van Buren as they reported to her that evening back at the 2-7.  "It's May."

            "Lieu," he said wearily, "I don't know where they got the friggin' snow, and I don't care.  You'll have to ask the LI guys about that one.  All I know is that we rounded up five more leather-coats in the process, and I'm hoping to God that's all of them."

            "What about the so-called victims?  Were they all okay?"

            "Yeah, more or less," said Ed.  "The guy in the dungeon was very hungry, and his wrists were bleeding a little bit, but he wouldn't even let us send him to the hospital.  We just got their names and addresses, told them to keep themselves real available, and got someone to run them home."

            "Yeah, and their undying gratitude was overwhelming," contributed Lennie.  "I've been called nicer names at drug busts."

            "Face it, Briscoe," quipped Van Buren, "I guess you're just not the stuff of fantasy!"

            Lennie was too tired and too disgruntled for a comeback.  "Idiots," he fumed.  "Every last one of them idiots.  There oughta be a law against it so that we could have arrested them, too."

            "Write Albany," Van Buren advised.

            "Yeah," said Ed.  "Maybe they'll call it 'Lennie's Law.'"

            "Oh, you two are a regular comedy act.   Why don't you do me a favor and take it on the road because right now I'm not much in the. . . "

Ed interrupted him, "So, now what do we do?" he asked her.

            "Well, let's see. . .   We have how many leather-coats now?"

            "Twelve," answered Ed.  "Plus Rapina, of course."

            "Oh, I forgot to tell you," said Van Buren, "While you guys were out running around Fantasy Island, Abbie got a line from OCCB on these guys."

            "Really?  Who are they?"

            "Well, we were right that they are mostly closely related – brothers, cousins, a couple brothers-in-law – most of them named Ivanov.  And most of them have at one time or another done some minor jobs for the Russian mob, but the word is that they're kind of flaky, so their involvement in any big time stuff is peripheral at best."

            "Oh, this just keeps getting better and better," Lennie griped.  "Russian mob wannabes – not even the real thing."

            "Yeah, well, you better be grateful that the real mob didn't get hold of this idea, or we might have a real mess on our hands," Van Buren told him.

            Lennie wondered if this wasn't a "real mess," what was.

            "Anyway," she was saying, "We can't lose sight of the whole point here – we still need to figure out what happened with Mr. Carswell and who made it happen with him.  Abbie and McCoy are going to have a little meeting with the lot of them at nine Monday morning, and she needs you guys there."

            "I hope they've rented out the Garden," muttered Ed.

Van Buren ignored him.  "With any luck, maybe by this time Monday this will be a closed case."

            "With any luck," Lennie echoed.  "Yeah, let's hope so.  I really don't want to hear the word 'abduction' ever again."  

            When he let himself into Judith's apartment a little while later, he found Judith curled up in an armchair with a book and Mrs. Shoenberg and Officer Kilcrease of the 2-7 together on the couch watching _Wheel of Fortune_.  Lennie walked him to the door and thanked him.

            "Hope you didn't get too bored," he told the young officer.

            "Nah, it was okay.  And these ladies are real good cooks.  I've pulled worse duty."

            "Haven't we all?" sighed Lennie, thinking of the day he'd just had.

            Back in the living room, Judith steered him into the kitchen so that they could talk away from the blare of the TV.  _To hell with the ongoing investigation_, he said to himself and told her everything that had happened since he had left that morning.

            She just stared at him, her big green eyes getting even bigger.  "Come on!  You made half of this stuff up, didn't you?"

            "Honey, I'm too tired to make anything up.  In fact, I've probably even forgotten a couple of the little scenarios we walked in on."

            She sighed.  "Well, I suppose when we put it in the greater context, we really can't be surprised."

            "We can't?" asked Lennie, raising his eyebrows.  "I'm surprised, and I thought I'd seen it all."

            She pushed the day's newspaper across the kitchen table to him.  "Check out the TV schedule.  How many of those bizarre reality shows do you see there on any night?  Even PBS has gotten in on the act.  People letting themselves in for all sorts of things.  How long could it be before someone else other than the TV networks decided to cash in?"

            Lennie pondered that.  "If you're right, and I hope you're not, there's nothing to stop this from happening over and over again.  More Mr. Carswells."

            "Exactly.  I guess it would be naive to think that this case would serve as any kind of deterrent?"

            "I've never found that that's the way it works.  Someone always thinks that he's going to be the one who will get away with it."

            "So, what happens now?"

            "Guess we go to the DA's meeting Monday and see what shakes out."

            "Well, how about around here?  Are we back to normal?  Can Mother go home?  Can I go back to work?"

            Lennie hesitated.  "Let's give it another day or so, okay?  It doesn't seem possible that we don't have them all, but who knows?"

            "I don't mean to complain, but this is getting really old, Lennie."

            "I know, doll," he sighed. "I know."

            On Monday morning, finding himself uncomfortably squeezed into a conference room with Ed, Abbie, McCoy, Rapina, Rapina's twelve henchmen, Ms. Parnell, and another defense attorney, and one other person he'd never seen, Lennie once again wished for this case to be over.  Even though it really only had been a week since Mr. Carswell's body was found, it seemed like forever.  He supposed it was because the whole abduction artist crap had come up so long before it actually turned into a case.  He thought back to the morning Judith had first alerted him to what was going on at the gallery.  _Good thing she did_, he speculated, _or we probably wouldn't all be sitting here today hopefully about to wrap this up_.  _If it hadn't been for that brochure, we never would have had a clue about Carswell._  Still, he never recalled a case having such an impact on his personal life, and he didn't like it at all.

            McCoy and Abbie glanced at each other, and he nodded at her to begin.  

            "Seeing as it is rather close in here, I'm sure that we all would like to make this short.  Here is our position on this matter:  Unless we turn up anything more, the charge we are bringing against Mr. Rapina is Manslaughter Two, reckless endangerment.  The other. . . "

            "That is absolutely outrageous!" protested Ms. Parnell.  "My client has done nothing illegal."

            "Our position, Ms. Parnell," said McCoy, "Is that your client ran a business that recklessly endangered the lives of how many people we don't know, but we do know Mr. Carswell, and he is dead.  Therefore, Man Two."

            "You'll never make it stick, Mr. McCoy.  And, by the way, where is Mrs. Carswell – since she's really the one responsible for this little gathering?"

            "We are dealing with Mrs. Carswell, and she is not your concern.  And if it hadn't been Mrs. Carswell who brought us all here together on this fine morning, it would have been someone else.  Sooner or later, it would have been someone else.  So, there you have the charge, and we'll talk with you later about a plea if you are so inclined."

            "Oh, we'll be talking, all right," fumed Ms. Parnell.  "In front of a judge.  I'm going to be drawing up a motion. . . "

            Abbie held up her hand.  "Not now, okay?  You draw up all the motions you think necessary, but right now we have more ground to cover.  The charge against these other gentlemen is Murder Two, depraved indifference."

            Now it was the turn of the other defense attorney to splutter.  Then the person Lennie hadn't recognized began to interpret for the Ivanovs.  A little back and forth with the lawyer, and then general consternation among the leather-coats.  Abbie and McCoy waited calmly.  Lennie looked around for a water cooler.  There wasn't one, and he couldn't have gotten to it if there had been as sandwiched in as they all were.

            "How can you possibly bring a charge like that?" asked the Ivanovs' lawyer.  "Is it your position that _all_ twelve men are responsible for Mr. Carswell's death?"

            "Until we know otherwise," replied Abbie serenely, "Yes, it is."

            "However," McCoy put in, "If and when we learn which one or ones are responsible for this. . . " and he tossed several photos of Mr. Carswell's body on to the conference table, "We will drop the charges against the others, with the exception of the two who already are charged with breaking and entering."

            "But. . .   But how do you propose to ascertain. . . "

            "_We_ don't," Abbie said.  "That's your problem.  You can get back to us on that.  Meanwhile, we have stated the charges.  And now, if you will excuse me, it's rather warm in here."

            With that, she and Jack snapped shut their briefcases and left the room, leaving behind them a general uproar.  Lennie and Ed hastily followed them.

            In the corridor, Abbie leaned against a wall and closed her eyes.  "Whew!" she said.

            Lennie found a water cooler.

            Ed turned to McCoy.  "So, how's this all gonna play out?"

            "I have no idea," he replied.  "The ball is in their court.  All I can tell you is that our positions are firm."

            "You'd really let all those others go if you find the two or three or whatever who did in Carswell?" Lennie asked.  "Even the ones picked up heading for Mrs. Schoenberg's place in Washington Heights?"

            "We might think we know that they were planning to intimidate a police officer and obstruct an investigation, but I doubt we ever could prove it."

            "And the others we picked up doing all that crazy stuff to people?  If that wasn't reckless endangerment, I don't know what is."

            "To you or me, Lennie," Abbie explained, "Or most other reasonable people, but after what you saw the other day, you must know that we're an endangered species."

            "Yeah, well, I guess I can't deny that."

            "What about Mrs. Carswell?" asked Ed.  "She gonna wiggle out of it?"

            "I wish I knew," sighed McCoy.  "We offered to plead her on Murder Two with a very generous sentencing recommendation in consideration of her having provided information about Mr. Rapina, but she won't take the deal.  Wants to go to trial."

            "Will you win?"

            "Technically, it's a good case, but with a defendant that rich?  Who ever knows?"

            "Hell of a system you got going here, Counselor," observed Lennie.

            McCoy shrugged.  "Best one we've got."

            "Listen, guys," said Abbie, "You did some really good work on this.  And your friend Judith, Lennie – remember I told her that night we went to the exhibit opening that she might have helped a lot?  Well, tell her it turned out that she did."

            "Absolutely," agreed McCoy.

            Lennie didn't quite know what to say.  "Well, I, um. . .  Thanks.  I'll tell her."

            "Well, let's get out of here," suggested McCoy.  He indicated the conference from which loud voices were coming.  "I don't particularly want to be around when that little party breaks up."

            "For sure," said Abbie.  "I've seen enough of those thugs for one day."

            "Okay.  Call if you need us for anything more on this," Ed told her.

            On their way back uptown, Ed asked Lennie, "You gonna get your life back now, bro?  You and Judith?"

            "I intend to.  I know it's been only a few days, but. . . "

            "I know what you mean.  This one's been playing with my mind ever since that morning at the gallery.  Never could have quite pictured it coming to this, though."

            "Well, you called it that morning, Ed.  'A homicide waiting to happen.'  Isn't that what you said?"

            "But who knew it'd be our case?"

            "Yeah, who knew?  You know what still worries me, though?"

            "What?"

            "Do you suppose we got all the current 'victims?'  I mean, I hope to God that there isn't someone still strung up somewhere waiting for food and water."

            "Yeah," Ed agreed.  "I was thinking about that, too.  But don't you think that seeing how much trouble those leather-coats know they are in that they would have told about it?  It sure as hell isn't in their best interest to have another dead body turn up."

            "I hope you're right, but with a brain trust like that, how can anyone be sure what they'd do?"

            "Well, we can't think about it, Lennie.  We did all we could."

            Back at the 2-7, Van Buren apparently agreed because she told them to finish their reports and then take the rest of the day off.  Actually, Lennie had been planning to ask for it.  He wanted to put as much distance between himself and this case as possible – and, as Ed put it, get his life back.

            Back at Judith's, he sighed when he found Mrs. Schoenberg watching _The Seeking Heart_.  Another reminder.  

            "Oh, Leonard," she said, "I forgot to tell you thank you for letting me know that Warren will be coming home from Antarctica.  I was so happy when Judith told me."

            "You're welcome, Mrs. S.  I'm glad everything's going to turn out okay."

            "Now how in the world did you find that out?  I didn't know you were interested in the stories."

            "Well, I, um, don't have much time for that, but it turned out that my partner and I had to drop by the show's production company one day, and that's how I heard it."

            "My, what an interesting job you have!"

            He smiled.  "Sometimes."

            The woman's attention drifted back to the soap, and Lennie wondered where Judith was.  Their first order of business was going to be to return Mrs. Schoenberg to her home.  Not that the mom wasn't a nice enough lady, at least when she wasn't on his case, but it'd been a week since he had been alone with Judith.  He walked into her bedroom where she was just hanging up the phone.

            "Hey, you," she smiled, surprised to see him.  "What are you doing home in the middle of the day?  Everything's okay, isn't it?"

            "Better than okay.  We've closed this damned Carswell case."

            "Really?  Well, come here – tell me what's happened."

            He sprawled across the comforter on the bed with his head propped on his hand and told her what had happened at the DA's that morning.

            "So, no matter what, you mean that some of those thugs are still going to be running around?  Is that safe?"

            "Probably not.  I'm sure they'll get themselves into some kind of trouble, but since Rapina was the brains behind the abduction crap, at least they probably won't be doing any more of that.  I don't think we have to worry about them.  And something else you might like to hear. . . "

            And he told her what Abbie and McCoy had said about her.

            "Really?" she asked, her eyes widening.  "They said that?  It never seemed that Abbie had a problem with me, but Jack McCoy said that, too?"

            "He agreed completely.  You're not going to have to be worried about running into him anymore.  You see, it's like I've been telling you – people come around."

            "I'm just glad that I'm not making your life so difficult any longer."

            "You never, ever did that.  Not that you're not a lot of trouble, of course, but I love every minute of it."

            She began to blush deeply as she always did when he teased her, and he loved seeing it.

"So, who were you talking to when I came in?"

            "Sadie.  Catching up on all the gossip from the gallery."

            "Well, I hope she told you that they've fired Kirkpatrick and Tony and taken that damned exhibit down."

            "Um, no, actually.  But Tony hasn't been seen since the day you arrested him."

            "That's because he spent a few nights on Rikers.  If he has any sense, he won't be back.  Kirkpatrick?"

            "Still there as if nothing happened.  I doubt the gallery owners know what he did.  He told everyone that his arrest that day was a 'misunderstanding.'"

            "You know, for two cents I'd go to the owners myself."

            "Leave it alone, Lennie.  Maybe he's learned his lesson."

            "And 'Urban Experience?'"

            "Well, you're not going to like this.  I wish I could tell you that it's history, but Sadie says it's still drawing and selling."

            "Oh, for God's sake!"  _Wasn't this case ever going to go away?_

            Judith shrugged.  "I don't know what anyone can do about it.  At least now there won't be any Rapina to call.  I guess it's just going to have to run its course."

            Lennie wondered if he could get her to leave that place and find another job.  He'd talk to her about that later.

            "So, what do you think?  It's not that I'm, um, trying to get rid of her or anything, but do you suppose your mother might like to go back to her place?  I mean, since I have the afternoon off and all, we could drive her up there."

            Judith smiled.  "Yes, you are trying to get rid of her.  And, yes, she is very much ready to go.  She's never been comfortable for long in unfamiliar surroundings.  So, that sounds like a plan to me.  Then what?"

            He grinned at her.  "Then you and I are coming back here – alone."

The End


End file.
